There Is Nothing Lost
by Curlyhedgehog
Summary: Fourth instalment of Don't Look Down. The grief of childlessness has been building within Sigrid for the last five years. She needs Fili's love and support, but they have quarreled, and a rift is in danger of forming in their marriage. Can they heal their hurt and find their way back to each other? AU Everyone lives. Figrid. Rated for sexual content. Trigger warning: Infertility.
1. Chapter 1

**_What though the Sea with Waves continual  
Do eat the Earth, it is no more at all;  
Ne is the Earth the less, or loseth ought:  
For whatsoever from one place doth fall,  
Is with the Tide unto another brought:  
For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought._**

 ** _Edmund Spenser_**

 ** _The Faerie Queene. Book V. Canto II._**

Sigrid dug her trowel viciously into the roots of the weed and levered it out of the soil. She threw it behind her onto the compost pile. It was a beautiful day, warm, sunny and still, with birds chirping in the trees and a few bees buzzing gently around her, and the soil in the garden smelled warm and rich as she brushed it off her breeches and gloves. Try as she might, though, none of the peace and beauty around her could distract her from her thoughts. How had she gotten here, on her knees, in the dirt, feeling so alone? She wanted to say she didn't know, that it had happened so gradually that she had hardly noticed, but that would be untrue. She remembered every moment. Every joke, every jibe, every backhanded criticism, every innocent comment that was no less hurtful for being unintentional, was indelibly lodged in her memory.

The first few years of her marriage had been everything she had hoped they would be, the fulfilment of every girlish dream as well as every level-headed adult aspiration. She was devoted to her husband, and he to her. She had been so optimistic in those early days, easily convincing her father that she and Fili were meant to be together, that they were going to face all their challenges together, and that they were going to succeed. She wasn't so convinced of that any more.

It was over five years ago now, that day they had first spoken to Jerrik about whether it would be possible to have a family. Fili had persuaded her not to worry about it. And she hadn't. If it was going to happen, it would happen, and if not, it didn't matter. They had plenty of time.

As the months had turned into years, she had felt less and less sure. Around her, friends and family members seemed to have no trouble with what was apparently so difficult for Fili and herself. Britte and Arrild had married, and baby Ailidh had arrived within a twelvemonth. Sigrid had doted on her, her joy for Britte and Arrild untarnished by any hint of bitterness or jealousy. Two years later they welcomed a boy, Brede, and last spring, their newest babe had arrived, little Gwennie, and Sigrid had sent a gift, a lovely baby blanket that she had embroidered herself, but she not had the heart to go and see her. It hurt too much. Every new baby, in Dale or in the Mountain, felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of her inadequacy, her failure to achieve what seemed so simple for everyone else.

Not that Britte had said or done anything on purpose to hurt her. It was an accumulation of little things, offhand comments and jibes, slights intended and not, that she had endured over the years, the pain of which she was unable to let go. Like Dain's endless digs during the three days he visited for Thorin's 200th birthday, and Marni's gloating birth announcement that she had addressed only to Fili from the Iron Hills last year, and even the whispers and nudges she had started to overhear around the Mountain, that a daughter of men ought to have been letting out her skirt waist by now.

But one of the most painful things said to her had come from Britte, and Britte had had no idea. It had been tiredness, sheer exhaustion, not malice, that had made her say it. Brede had been a difficult baby, a bad sleeper, and Ailidh had been sick all night. Britte had been at the end of her tether.

" _You're so lucky."_

Sigrid knew she didn't really mean it, that it was just venting. It hurt anyway. To be told she was lucky not to have children, lucky to be infertile, lucky to have this constant ache in her heart, to wake up with it in the morning and to go to bed with it at night and never be free of it, and from someone so dear to her… it was devastating.

It wasn't only Britte, though. Everyone seemed to think they were entitled to comment about their private life. "Just relax," she'd been told. "Have some wine before you go to bed," offered someone else. "You're trying too hard," she heard, as well as "You're not trying hard enough." Or simply, "You must be doing it wrong."

The weight had built up on her shoulders, day by day. She had spoken to Fili about it, about how hard she was finding it, in the beginning; but the anguish that appeared in his eyes whenever she brought up the subject had added its own pain, and eventually she stopped mentioning it. It was easier not to say anything than to feel responsible for that look of anguish.

She had consulted Jerrik again and again, willing to try anything that he thought may help. He had worked diligently to research different herbs, treatments and remedies, and the latest initiative was to make charts of her monthly cycles, and to time their coupling to occur on certain days when it was supposedly most likely to be effective. For the last eight or nine months she had kept meticulous records, and they had initially found it to be fun, to go to bed when the calendar said so, but then after a while, it wasn't. Somewhere along the line they had lost their spontaneity and joy, their connection with each other, and it had become a chore, something to be ticked off a list or plotted on a parchment. She knew it wasn't right, and that it was affecting them both in ways she hated, but she didn't know what else to do.

So she escaped. Her garden, back at her old home in Dale, was a refuge, a place where she didn't have to think about babies or remedies or charts. There were no snide remarks, no insensitive comments, among the flowers and vegetables and herbs. Just weeds that needed digging, and plants that needed tending, and she threw herself into it willingly. But in the end, it was still running away. She had not seen her friends for months. She had not joined Tilda at her work in Dale for weeks. She avoided her father, brother and sister, knowing their schedules and timing her visits to the garden to coincide with their absences. She had simply hidden herself away, day after day, alone, withdrawn from people and activities that used to bring her joy and relaxation but were now a burden, in an attempt to hide away her anxiety and grief and ease the ache in her heart.

And it wasn't really working.

* * *

Fili was sitting in the sunshine, on the grass beyond the stables, sharpening his swords. They were already sharp, not having been used in earnest for years, but he sharpened them anyway, listening to the quiet rasping sound of the whetstone as he rubbed it methodically back and forth along the edge of the blade. He enjoyed being outdoors, and messing around with his blades under the sun on a fresh, clear day such as this usually lifted his spirits. Usually.

"Hi Fili." It was Tilda. In the last five years she had become a tall, confident young woman of seventeen, and Fili was still surprised at how fast it seemed to have happened.

"Hi, Tilda. Come and join me." She flopped down onto the grass beside him, and held up a small roll of parchment.

"Where's Sigrid? I've finally got those lists of plants she wanted."

Fili frowned. "She's not here. I thought she was in Dale with you."

Tilda shook her head. "No, I've not seen her for weeks. It's no matter, I know she gets busy from time to time. Would you give these to her for me?" She handed over the roll of parchments.

Fili nodded, still frowning. "Gladly."

"Thanks, Fili. Got to run, I'm meeting Tauriel for a ride." She got up and brushed the grass off her breeches. "Nice swords, but too heavy for me. I like your hunting knives better. When are you going to make one for me?"

Fili shook his head. "I fear we've been a bad influence on you, Lady Tilda. Maybe for your next birthday." She grinned and walked away, and Fili sighed. If only he could make Sigrid as happy that easily. Then he thought again about what Tilda had said, frowned again, and continued sharpening his swords.

* * *

Fili found Sigrid later that afternoon in their chamber. He spoke to her over his shoulder as he placed his swords back on his weapons rack.

"I saw Tilda today. She brought these up for you." He turned and handed Sigrid the parchments.

"Oh, good. Thank you." She took them, untied the roll, and looked them over.

"She told me she hasn't seen you for weeks."

Sigrid, suddenly alert at his tone, looked up from the parchments.

"All this time, for weeks, I thought you were in Dale with Tilda." Jealousy had always been his weakness, and he couldn't keep the bitter edge of it out of his voice. "Where have you been, Sigrid?"

It wasn't much, but it was enough. She stared at him, her eyes incredulous and hurt and angry. "Are you accusing me of something? Do you think I'm being unfaithful to you?"

He hesitated, just a fraction of a second. "No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."

"So now I'm ridiculous," she snapped. "Ridiculous and unfaithful."

"No, Sigrid, that's not what I meant. You're twisting my words." He picked up the stack of charts from the table, shook his head, and threw them back down, sending them flying across the table and onto the floor.

"They were your words." She started picking up her parchments from the floor and snapped at him again. "Look what you've done. Why don't you…" She cut herself off.

He knew he wasn't handling it well. He was angry. Angry at her charts, at her, at himself, and at the bottom of the anger was fear, fear that he'd never be able to give her what those charts represented, and that maybe she wanted it more than she wanted him. He wasn't going to stay and give her the opportunity to say so out loud. He walked away.

"I used to be enough for you," he said bitterly from the doorway. " _We_ used to be enough for you. I guess that's just not the case any more."

He saw her face crumple as he slammed the door, and regretted his outburst immediately, but his pride and anger wouldn't let him turn back, and he hated himself for it.

Sigrid slid to the floor, drew up her knees and buried her head in her arms, the charts crushed in her hands. Fili's veiled accusation had hurt her deeply, and in her pain and anger she'd been unable to prevent herself from wanting to hurt him in return. Well, she'd done that. The one person she needed the most, the one whose love and support she could not do without, had just walked out on her. This misery, on top of the hurt she already carried, was too much, and she broke down and sobbed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ten minutes later Fili rushed back to their chamber and burst through the door.

"Sigrid, love, I'm so…" He stopped. The chamber was empty, as was the bathing room. He'd not been gone long, though. He had scowled aimlessly along the corridors of the Mountain for only a few minutes until, as quickly as it had flared, his temper had vanished, and he had headed straight back, full of remorse. Sigrid couldn't have gone far in that time.

He didn't want to stay in their chamber and wait for her to return, he was too keyed up. He had to go and find her. He thought about where she might have gone, and ran first up the long flights of stairs to the parapet of the great front gate, skidding to a halt on the flagstones as he burst out of the doorway into the warm air of the summer afternoon, breathing heavily. His shoulders slumped when he realised she wasn't there.

He raced back down the stairs, hurriedly apologising as he skirted around people moving too slowly through the corridors, to the West Hall, hoping she'd be at one of the tables. There was no sign of her there either. He blew out a breath, tapping a foot restlessly and looking around the hall as he tried to think. The Mountain was so big that he could spend hours going around in circles and never cross her path, if she didn't want to be found. But that wasn't like her. It wasn't in Sigrid's nature to be petulant, or sullen; if she was upset, she would be in search of solace, not hiding from him in a game of tit-for-tat. And if he was the one who had upset her, who would she go to for that solace?

He turned and made for the stables. She'd go to her father.

* * *

Fili pulled up his pony in front of Bard's house. The sun was low in the sky behind him, but the light of the summer afternoon still lingered, and there were no lanterns shining in the house to indicate whether anyone was at home. He dismounted, flung Mindy's reins loosely around a post, and strode forward to knock on the door.

No-one answered. He peered through a window. The house was deserted. He knew that Tilda was staying up at the Mountain for supper with Tauriel and Kili, but surely Bard and Bain should be at home at this time of the evening. He stepped back to glance up at the windows of the upstairs level. Nothing. He headed around to check the barn, on the off-chance they were out there. He'd felt sure this was where Sigrid would have come, but having found her Da not at home, where would she have gone next? Britte? Jerrik? There was no way of knowing.

As he turned the corner of the house, his eye fell on an oddly-shaped bundle of fur and leather in the middle of the vegetable garden. He started running.

"Sigrid!"

She lifted her head from her drawn-up knees, and saw it was him. She threw his coat off from around her shoulders, climbed up from the ground and ran towards him.

He crushed her in his arms, and buried his face in her neck.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

He pulled back to kiss her face firmly, once, twice, half a dozen times, then sunk his face into her neck again. They held each other tight, breathing in the comfort of their embrace, until Sigrid pulled back and gestured behind her.

"This is where I've been, Fili." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Here, gardening. I would never, never…"

He took her face in his hands, his eyes sorrowful and pleading. "You don't have to explain, love. I know you wouldn't, and it was wrong of me to have ever suggested it." He pulled her back to him and cradled the back of her head with his hand. "Let's go home. We need to talk about this. All of it."

She nodded against his shoulder and wiped her eyes, and he gave her a rueful smile as she turned away to retrieve his coat from the garden bed.

She walked back towards him, her eyes on the coat folded over her arm, her hand brushing bits of grass and soil off the fur.

"I know it's too warm for this," she murmured. "But even when I was mad at you, I still wanted you." She looked up. "When I put it on, it's like you have your arms around me."

His heart smote him at her words, and he held out his arms again.

"I'm so sorry, love. I'll say it a thousand times."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you." She stepped once again into his embrace. "But I don't want to talk about it here. Let's go home."

* * *

They arrived back at the Mountain as the sun was setting. One of the guards at the gate took the ponies' reins and led them off to the stables, while Fili sent word down to the kitchens to have his and Sigrid's supper sent up to their chamber. They made their way back there, and once inside, Fili took Sigrid in his arms again.

"I came back ten minutes after I left, to apologise," he began. "But you had already gone."

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

"An educated guess. I know you well enough." He drew back to look at her face, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not well enough to read your mind though, love. You need to tell me what's going on."

She pulled back from him and took a deep breath. "I will, but first, would you make me a fire? Just a small one. I want to sit and look at it while we talk."

He frowned, concerned and wary at her seeming distance, but he nodded. "Of course, if you want." As he made up the fire, one of the kitchen staff arrived discreetly at the door with their supper. Sigrid slid the tray onto the rug in front of the fireplace, and they propped themselves up against the end of the bed and watched the flames as they ate.

"I owe you an apology, Fili," Sigrid said quietly as she sipped a goblet of wine, staring at the fire. She shook her head as he tried to demur. "Not about the argument. It's everything. The whole baby business. It's become all I think about."

"I know how important it is to you, Sigrid." A chill had run down Fili's spine at her words, but he took a deep breath and steeled himself. If she wanted to find someone else, someone who could give her a child, he wasn't going to stand in her way. It was ironic: he would willingly give her anything in the world she wanted, but the one thing her heart was set on, he was unable to provide. And it cut him to the quick.

"No. It's not right. I've lost perspective." She looked at him from across the tray. "What you said made me realise how much."

He shook his head, discomfited at the recollection of his outburst. "Please, Sigrid, forget what I said. I didn't mean it."

"But you were right." She reached behind her and pulled out her sheaf of charts, and there was a tremor in her voice. "It just _hurts_ , Fili. Feeling so useless, seeing everyone else have babies and thinking, 'Why not us? When is it going to be our turn?' and knowing that it might never happen. I had to try. I can accept it if I know I tried."

She slid the tray out of the way and closed the distance between them. "But it's been taking everything out of me, and I had nothing left to give you." She placed a hand on his cheek, caressing him with her thumb. "You've been hurting too, haven't you, love? I thought I was protecting you, by not talking about it, but all I did was send you the message that I cared more about it than about you."

His relief was palpable, a great weight lifting from his heart. She didn't want to find someone else. He was not going to lose her. But there remained a measure of guilt: she was in more pain than he had realised, and he'd been focused on his own concerns. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand, but when he reached for her, she held his hands back.

"Please, love, let me finish. I've got to bring everything back into perspective. It's making you miserable. It's making _us_ miserable." Her face crumpled and she slowly shook her head, her pain and sadness finally bringing tears to her eyes. "I just wanted us to be a family, you and me. But I don't want to end up having a baby and not having you."

She leaned toward the fireplace, and threw her charts into the fire.

She turned back to him, and this time didn't resist when he reached for her and pulled her close. He murmured brokenly into her hair.

"Oh Sigrid, love, I didn't realise how bad it's been for you. All I could think about was whether you wanted to find someone else. Whether maybe you _should_ find someone else. Someone who can give you what I can't."

She drew back and looked at him in anguish. "Fili, no. Never." She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes desperately. "It's you I want, only you. Now and always." She kissed him, hard, and without releasing his lips climbed across his legs to straddle his lap. He slid his arms up inside hers to her neck and held her gently as he let her plunder his mouth, then suddenly the wall inside him that had been containing all the emotion of the last few months, his fears, his anxieties, his awareness of her pain and distance, and the tension between them, broke down, and he crushed her body to his, and took control. She was his, she always was, and she always would be.

Sigrid felt the sudden change in Fili's kiss. She knew they needed to talk more, but it could wait. Their loss of intimacy was also part of the problem, and from the way Fili was responding, it looked like that, at least, might be an easy fix. His arms slid around her and pulled her to him, and she revelled in the strength with which he held her. He was normally so gentle, so conscious of his power compared to hers, but now there was an edge to his touch that she had never felt before, and though she knew it was born of desperation, she relished it. She sunk her fingers into his hair and held on as he devoured her neck, one hand moving from her back to close over her breast, and she felt his growl of displeasure as his hand found her stays underneath her shirt. He lifted her up and turned to seat her on the edge of the bed, and kneeled between her legs, pulling off her shirt and throwing it on the floor, his hands roving her body and his lips against her neck.

"Sigrid."

He was talking to her. She tried to concentrate. "What is it, love?"

"Are you attached to these stays at all?"

She shook her head, distracted and puzzled. "Not really. Why?"

He took firm hold of the fabric either side of the laces and she saw his muscles flex as he ripped the garment apart. He threw it aside and fell on her breasts, his lips and tongue swirling and tasting first one, then the other.

"Mmm. That's why."

She laughed, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd done that in their bed. His lips trailed down her stomach as he lowered her backwards, and she laughed again, happy that she felt happy, relieved and glad in the knowledge that the distance between them was closing. She lifted her hips as he tugged her breeches down and threw them aside, and then he paused and drew back to look at her, his blue eyes intent and predatory, reclaiming her as his own, and the laughter in her eyes faded, burned away by his gaze and leaving desire in its wake. He reached up his open palm and swept it proprietorially from her neck down to her knees, and then he lifted her leg over his shoulder and leaned in to place his lips over her sex.

One hand felt lightly for his hair, her fingers entwining with his braids, and the other went to her forehead, and she closed her eyes. She was transported, utterly. He was not lingering on her gently, as she was used to, but devouring her hungrily, sweeping his tongue along her folds firmly and thoroughly, pulsing insistently on her bud with his lips, pushing his tongue inside her again and again, and returning for more, intent on drawing the maximum sensation and pleasure from her body without delay. He caressed the thigh that was resting on his shoulder and then changed the angle of his mouth, bringing his fingers up to delve inside her, and she felt her climax rising, her moans and gasping breath urging him on. She fisted both hands in his hair as it rose higher and higher and finally broke, flooding her body, and she cried out his name, her heart pounding and her muscles clenching around his fingers. Her cry drew from him a low, guttural sound, a self-satisfied moaning laugh that she felt deep inside her even as she shuddered, and he looked up at her, his blue eyes this time gloating and possessive.

" _Sigrid mine."_

He crawled up her body and rolled onto the bed beside her, shrugging out of his shirt. Still catching her breath, she pulled impatiently at his breeches, and he lifted his hips and kicked out of them, and she took him in her hands. He threaded a hand into her hair and used it to hold her as he rested his forehead on hers.

"Amrâlimê, I want to be inside you," he whispered hoarsely. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his waist, reaching underneath her to position him where he needed to be, and took him inside her, her hands finding his for leverage as she began moving. She sighed and closed her eyes at the feel of him filling her so completely, and for no other reason than the joy and connection of it, and increased her pace. His hands moved to her hips, and she leaned on his chest as he used his hands to direct her rhythm, pulling her onto him as he thrust into her with grinding force. Again she felt an edge to his movements, less gentle but not less considerate, and she wanted more. She leaned down to whisper as much in his ear, and he groaned, grasping her tightly and flipping her onto her back, one hand sliding around her thigh to lift it up beside him, and he began driving into her in earnest. It was primal, ferocious, and she gloried in it. She held on to him, and soon felt him tense up, and with a great shudder he climaxed, moaning her name and spilling himself inside her.

He collapsed on the bed beside her, breathless, spent, and drew her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his pounding heart, her head rising and falling with his panting breath, her hand flat on his stomach, and she felt him running his fingers through her hair. She lay like that until his heart rate slowed, and then she whispered to him.

"Fili, my love, I've missed you so. I've missed this. You and me. Like it should be."

He drew her face up to look at him, leaned in to capture her lips in a tender kiss, and nestled her into his shoulder. "We can fix it, beloved," he whispered. He paused, and she knew he was grinning. "You have to admit, we've made an excellent start." She laughed, and he reached up to stroke her hair again. "You don't know how good it is to hear you laugh, my love. We've let everything get to us for far too long." He paused again, thinking, his fingers toying with her hair absently. "We need to get away. There's too much baggage here, too many opinions. We need to forget about everything for a while and concentrate on us. What do you think?"

She raised herself up onto her elbow and looked down at him, her fingers taking strands of his hair and smoothing them back, one by one, before caressing his cheek with her thumb. "I think that's a very good idea."


	3. Chapter 3

They woke as the early morning light began reflecting dimly into their room through the shaft in the ceiling overhead. Sigrid stretched lazily and smiled, thoroughly relaxed and aching pleasantly in all the right places, and rolled over to look at Fili, finding his eyes already open and gazing at her.

She smiled again, knowing he was watching her reactions, and caught the hint of self-satisfied smirk lurking in the corners of his mouth. "Good morning, my love."

"Good morning, beloved." He lifted his arm and she ducked under it, snuggling into his side with her head on his shoulder. He turned his head and kissed her hair. "Looks like you slept well?"

He was teasing her. She played along with his game. "Mmm, I did sleep well. Best sleep I've had in months, actually. You?"

"Meh. It was all right, I guess." She gasped and swatted at him in mock outrage, and he flinched and laughed and fended her off, until finally he caught her hands and held them on the bed above her head. He leaned in, nuzzling his lips into her neck and hair, and whispered to her.

"Ah, my sweet love. It was beautiful. You are beautiful. You have no idea how happy I am right now." He brought her hands down and pulled her back into his embrace. "How soon can we go away?"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and she felt her own interest in the scheme growing. "I'll have to talk to Tilda, and let her know how long we'll be gone. How long will we be gone?"

"A month or two. Maybe longer." He squeezed her against his chest and she could hear the grin in his voice. "Maybe we won't come back at all."

Sigrid laughed and looked up from his shoulder. "Renouncing the throne already? And after all that trouble you took to get it."

"You're right, Thorin would kill me. How about this. We make for the Iron Hills, but slowly, riding for a few hours each day. Two weeks to get there, two weeks there, and two weeks to ride back. We'll make camp early each day, cook over the open fire, sleep under the stars when it's fine, sleep in a tent when it isn't, and relax, and talk." He squeezed her against him again. "And whatever else takes our fancy."

"Four weeks camping?" Suddenly the idea didn't seem so appealing. "Really? Do I get to bathe?"

"Of course," he laughed. "There are streams all through the countryside, tributaries to the Running and the Redwater. We can fish, swim… it will be fun. Say yes."

Sigrid drew in a deep breath and sighed. "You know I'd follow you anywhere, Fili. Even to a mouldy old tent in some forgotten backwater of the countryside, it seems. But it's comforting to know I won't turn up at the Iron Hills looking filthy and smelling like a troll. Marni would have a field day."

He laughed again. "I'm taking that for a 'yes.' Don't worry, I won't let Marni near you, love. Or Dain either, for that matter. There's a reason I want to go to the Iron Hills, despite my insufferable relations." He turned on his side, bringing himself face to face with her, and reached up a hand to caress her cheek. "There are healers there, Sigrid, midwives. We've never spoken to them. They might know something that can help us."

His soft voice and the look in his eyes, filled with such hope, smote her to the heart. She knew he was doing it for her, to make her happy, and to try to make amends for these last few stressful months when they had lost their way, and she loved him for it. But when Sigrid had thrown her charts in the fire, she had decided to let go of hope. She had to. For her own peace of mind she had to break the cycle of having her hopes raised and then dashed, over and over again. It was too much, and it was taking too much out of her. She didn't know exactly how to articulate that to Fili, or how to make him understand without seeming to be throwing his gesture back in his face. But after last night, she had to try.

His clear blue eyes were studying her face, his brow contracted slightly in concern, and she guessed that the complexity of her emotions must have been clearly written there for him to read, because before she could open her mouth, he spoke again.

"Sigrid, if we get there and you don't want to speak to anyone, you don't have to. But please, love, I'd like to."

Tears welled in her eyes. Fili had done everything she'd asked of him, swallowed every cup of bitter herbs from Jerrik, followed the schedule on the charts even though he resented it, tried out every ridiculous piece of advice they'd ever heard, and until their argument yesterday, all without complaint, simply because he knew she wanted to do it. This was the first thing he'd ever asked of her. It wasn't solely for her sake that he wanted to go and talk to the Iron Hills healers, he wanted it for himself as well. And she would not deny him that, not after everything he'd so willingly done at her bidding. She knew it was going to cost her, being swept once again into the cycle of hope and disappointment, but she would find the strength somehow. For him. She bit her lip, fighting back the tears, and nodded.

He pulled her back into his arms, and held her.

* * *

They planned to leave the day after the morrow, giving them two days to make their arrangements. It was all sorted easily enough. Kili and Dis agreed to take over some of Fili's duties, with other tasks being delegated amongst various stewards and chamberlains of the Mountain, while Tilda felt confident enough to handle the work of Dale on her own, knowing that she had the support of her father and her friends should she run into difficulties. It was pleasing for Sigrid and Fili to know that their family was so willing to help them, and the relative ease with which their absence seemed to have been accepted and organised left them quietly wondering why they hadn't planned a trip away before now.

The day before their departure, Sigrid was in her room, rifling through her chests of clothing and debating with herself whether she would need a formal gown whilst at the Iron Hills, when she heard a knock on the door. It was Tauriel.

"I've brought you something for your trip, mellon." Tauriel's hands held a small cloth bag, and she held it out to Sigrid. "This is lembas, elvish waybread. My people wouldn't think of going on a trip without it, even one as short as yours." Her eyes sparkled, and she gave an impish grin. "I made it myself. I believe the kitchen staff still haven't gotten over the sight."

Sigrid laughed, the unlikely image of Tauriel in an apron with a dab of flour on her nose popping briefly into her mind, but she was genuinely touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Tauriel, truly. I'm sure it will come in handy."

"You're welcome." Tauriel looked down at the jumble of clothing that Sigrid had pulled out of her chests, and raised an eyebrow.

Sigrid sighed and shook her head. "We're camping, but once we arrive at the Iron Hills, they'll probably want to hold a feast for us. What do you think? I feel like I have to be ready for anything."

"I wouldn't presume to counsel you on your clothing, mellon. That's Dis' area of expertise. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to advise you."

"Dis would probably have me take the crown jewels," Sigrid laughed. "There's a happy medium in there somewhere, I just have to find it."

"You will." Tauriel bent to embrace Sigrid, and kissed her affectionately on the cheek. "I'll leave you to your packing. I'll come and see you both off tomorrow."

* * *

After a frustrating half-hour's vacillating over gowns, Sigrid decided it actually would be wise to seek out Dis' opinion on the clothing she should take. She made her way to Dis' chambers, knocking quietly and entering at her invitation.

Dis looked up from the parchments she was reviewing at the table. "Sigrid dear, come in. How are your preparations going?"

"Not well. I need your advice, Dis. Do you think they'll want to hold a feast for us, at the Iron Hills?"

Dis looked back down at her parchments, but her lips were working to avoid the appearance of a smirk. "I believe they will, Sigrid dear, especially seeing as how I've already sent a speeded courier to let them know you're coming."

Sigrid rubbed her forehead. She loved Dis like her own mother, but there were times when the communal living of the Mountain was definitely a drawback.

"Right. So I'll need a gown then."

"And what state would it be in after you've dragged it around the countryside on a pack horse for two weeks? I was coming to see you, to let you know, but the courier has taken everything you're going to need, gowns, jewels, slippers, and they will be waiting for you when you get there." Dis' eyes turned soft. "My gift to you, daughter." She took Sigrid's hand and drew her to sit on the edge of the bed.

Sigrid sighed. She couldn't be annoyed with Dis. She reached out and rubbed her mother-in-law's arm. "Thank you, Dis. You're always thinking a step ahead."

"I know you've not been having the easiest time lately, Sigrid dear," she said gently. "I wanted to take one problem off your hands, if I could."

There was that communal living again. Sigrid looked bleakly into Dis' face. "How much has Fili told you?"

"Nothing, dear. He didn't need to. I've got eyes." Dis took Sigrid's hand. "I see the pain in your face whenever babies are mentioned, Sigrid dear. I can see how much it's hurting you."

She didn't want to cry again. She tried to hold it together, her voice wavering. "It's never going to happen, Dis. I think we've all got to accept that."

Dis looked earnestly into her face. "It took me ten years to fall pregnant with Fili."

"I don't have ten years, Dis. I'm not a dwarrowdam. I'm already seven and twenty, that's not young for a first baby among my people."

"But it's not old, either. Don't give up hope, dear. Not just yet."

Sigrid shook her head slowly, unwilling to give her mother-in-law false assurances. "Hoping gets harder each day. It's starting to feel impossible."

Dis didn't answer. She simply held her arms open, and Sigrid accepted the comfort of her embrace, her real maternal consideration something Sigrid had missed since her own mother had died, so long ago. She finally drew back, and sniffed, wiping her eyes, and Dis laid a hand on her cheek.

"I'm here, daughter. For whatever you decide." She smiled at Sigrid a moment longer, then abruptly resumed her no-nonsense manner. "I can't stop Fili dragging you up hill and down dale on his little camping expedition, but I won't be having you look like a scarecrow when you get there. Honestly. You're a daughter of Durin now, Sigrid dear, and Durin's folk do not turn up at their relative's homes looking like they just crawled out from under a troll hoard. Not in my book, anyway."

Sigrid laughed, having heard many times the story of Thorin and Kili's exchange before they joined the battle for the Mountain, and to hear it paraphrased in such a way was typical of her mother-in-law's delightful mixture of cheek and dignity. She quickly gave her another hug.

"Thank you, Dis. Love you."

Dis huffed, a suspicious moistness appearing in her eyes. "I love you too, Sigrid dear. Now go on and finish packing."


	4. Chapter 4

The summer morning was warm and clear as they set out, with birds darting around overhead and bees humming through the bushes on the rocky slope between the road and the River Running. Fili was riding Mindy and leading a laden pack pony, its saddle bags bursting with food, clothing and camping equipment, while he himself, Sigrid knew, had secreted what had seemed like dozens of blades of different shapes and sizes all over his person, and judging from his wide grin, was having the time of his life. Sigrid didn't know how they would possibly use even half the items he had packed, but she kept her skepticism to herself, unwilling to dampen Fili's excitement, and reminded herself with a grin of her own not to make any sudden moves around her husband or she was liable to wind up losing a finger. On her own calm and steady mount, Daisy, she waved a last farewell to Tilda, Dis and Tauriel, who had come to see them off, and they set off, following the road down through Dale and fording the river under the south-eastern slope of the Mountain, then turning eastward where the road ran alongside dairy pastures and fields of millet and buckwheat. They also rode past a spectacular field of lavender bushes, the distinctive floral scent filling the air long before Sigrid caught sight of the actual flowers, where a family was slowly making their way down the ordered rows with baskets over their arms, clipping off the flowering stalks as they went. One of the young girls waved at Sigrid as they came by, and ran forward to present her with a posy of the sweet-smelling flowers.

"For you, my Lady," she squeaked in a tiny voice.

Sigrid leaned down and accepted the offering with a smile. "It's Hannah, isn't it? Thank you, Hannah. That's very kind of you." The girl blushed and dropped an awkward curtsey, flustered but immensely pleased that the Lady Sigrid actually knew her name, and ran back to her parents. Sigrid smiled at her as she fled, and tucked the lavender inside her blouse.

The road was dry, and the leisurely pace they had chosen ensured it was not too dusty, and they found themselves enjoying the sunshine and the feeling that they had left their responsibilities behind them. Around them the outlying fields gradually gave way to the open moor, a rolling, scrubby bushland of heath, heather, and gorse, with swathes of bracken popping up here and there between the grasses, and dark smudges of trees dotted around in the distance. They stopped for lunch just after noon, dismounting in a clearing beside the roadway, and loosely tethered their ponies to let them graze. Fili pulled a blanket, food and a wineskin from their saddle bags, handing the blanket to Sigrid to spread on the grass, and they laid their picnic out in the sunshine. Fili poured the wine into a couple of wooden goblets.

"May all our worst days be thus," he toasted, lifting his goblet to Sigrid. She smiled and clinked her goblet to his, and sipped the sweet white wine, still pleasantly cool despite their morning's ride. They feasted on small pies and fresh crusty bread with cheese, and tea cakes and fresh plums, along with the wine and water, and talked of the trip ahead of them.

"Where do you see us sleeping tonight, O Master of the Wilds?" Sigrid said with a grin. She glanced around their picnic area. "Would you consider setting up here?"

Fili shook his head, grinning at the epithet. "No, it's too near the road. We don't want any stray travellers stumbling across us in the middle of the night. There's a stream about an hour from here that cuts across the road. I was thinking once we hit it, we'd follow it upstream for a mile or so and find a spot there to set up camp for the night."

"Stray travellers? Fili, my love, you've enough blades on you to fend off an army," Sigrid teased. "Don't think I didn't see you this morning, hiding them all over yourself. Surely we'd be safe enough."

"You're safe, don't worry about that," he grinned, looking down at his goblet. He tilted his head up and shot her a sly look from the corner of his eye. "I was thinking more about not wanting to be… interrupted."

"Ah, I see," Sigrid nodded, pretending to miss the innuendo and taking a juicy bite of her plum. "Yes, getting a good night's sleep is important when you're out on the road." She smiled ruefully, shaking her head. "Especially when you don't have a warm, soft bed to sleep in."

"Your bed may not be as soft as you'd like, love," Fili murmured, and he surprised Sigrid by suddenly rolling onto his hands and knees and crawling across the blanket towards her, stopping with his face just inches from her own. "But trust me, it's going to be warm." His eyes on her lips, he leaned forward and kissed her, gently sucking her lower lip into his mouth to taste the juice on it, then drew back onto his heels and looked into her eyes, his face wearing an expression that could only be described as a smirk. "Mmm. Delicious."

The glint in his eye told her he was in a mischievous mood; she decided to retaliate with some mischief of her own. She held her half-eaten plum to his lips, and he took a bite.

"Let me see." She pulled him back towards her and tasted his lips in turn, suppressing a grin as he immediately slid a hand into her hair to hold her and deepen the kiss. She leaned back slowly and drew him down on top of her on the blanket, his hand skimming her body and settling at her waist, and sighed as he released her lips to press a line of butterfly kisses down her neck. She had just closed her eyes and relaxed into the sensation, wanting to chuckle at how easy it still was to stoke the fire between them if they put their minds to it, when Fili stopped, suddenly alert. At the side of the clearing, she heard one of the ponies snort and paw at the ground, and she craned her head up to look around.

"What is it?" she whispered, concerned. She was relieved to hear Fili's exaggerated sigh.

"An interruption. I told you we were too near the road." He sat up and looked at her. "A cart, one horse, coming towards us from the east."

"Tomorrow is market day. What are we, ten, twelve miles from the Mountain? It might be Draupnir."

Fili was surprised. "I didn't think you and Tilda rode out this far."

"We don't. Draupnir's a farmer from around here who comes in three or four times a year to the market in Dale. He's a strange one, but harmless."

"Well, we'll soon find out." Fili gave Sigrid's neck a last nuzzle and murmured to her. "Save me a plum for tonight."

Sigrid raised an eyebrow at her husband, but then the cart rumbled into view, and she sat up on the blanket and tidied her hair, trying to look unruffled. Fili tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and cheekily gave her a last sidelong whisper.

"It was your fault, you temptress, eating your plum in that seductive… hail, friend! How goes your day?" Fili leapt up from the blanket and raised his hand in greeting to the driver of the cart as it pulled up on the road next to them. Sigrid saw that it was indeed the reclusive Draupnir, his cart loaded with carrots, squash and small clinking pots of honey, the usual fare that the eccentric farmer brought in to sell at the Dale market. He was a small man, grizzled and unkempt, with dark, darting eyes which ranged over them indifferently, until they fell on the wineskin lying on the picnic blanket. He perked up immediately.

"Hail, travellers! Warm day, isn't it? Warm and dusty… and a long trip ahead of me, too. The kind that makes a man dry out."

Fili grinned and glanced at Sigrid, as if seeking permission. They both realised Draupnir hadn't recognised them, and Fili apparently wanted to invite him to sit down, and if she knew her husband, he would no doubt try to have a bit of harmless fun at the farmer's expense. Sigrid rolled her eyes and gave a barely perceptible nod, and Fili turned back to Draupnir.

"By all means, come down from your noble chariot, friend, and take a cup with us!" he said, and swept his arm towards the picnic blanket in invitation, while Sigrid tried to keep a straight face at the bombastic manner he had adopted.

Draupnir didn't wait to be asked twice. He tied his reins to the front of his cart and jumped down, hurrying to accept Sigrid's offered cup. He sat down, and tasted the wine, then stopped, looked into the cup, and took another long sip, smacking his lips.

"My, my, that is good." He squinted up at the two of them, seeming to see them properly for the first time. "You two are travellers, did you say? Where did you find this vintage? I've got to get some."

Fili laughed. "We didn't say, actually. But simple travellers we are, on our way to the Iron Hills to visit our kinfolk. The fine wine you're tasting comes from a land far away to the south, and you would be hard pressed to find it in a tavern around these parts. But enough about us. What brings you out this fine day, friend…?" He looked enquiringly at Draupnir.

"It's Draupnir." He drained his goblet and looked longingly into it, and smiled widely when Sigrid held out the wineskin to refill it. He lifted it to them in salute. "I'm to market, in Dale. Squash, carrots and honey. The heather season is nigh, and I like to clear out the stock before I move the hives. More work than is fair for one on his own, but coin is coin, as I always say." He narrowed his eyes at Fili. "Though you'd have coin enough, I'll wager."

Fili smiled disingenuously. "How do you figure that, friend Draupnir?"

The farmer shrugged. "Fancy wine from foreign parts doesn't come cheap."

"You sound like a shrewd man, friend Draupnir. I'd wager not much gets past you." Fili's eyes were bright with amusement, and Sigrid gave him a little nudge with her elbow.

Draupnir finished his wine and nodded. "Too right. Well, I must press on, my thanks to you for your hospitality, Goodwife…"

"Sigrid."

"My thanks, Goodwife Sigrid. And your… husband, is it?"

"Fili," he bowed. "At your service."

Draupnir frowned, puzzled. "Fili, Fili… odd name, that." They waited, expecting a glimmer of recognition to appear, but there was nothing. Draupnir stood and shook Fili's hand, and made his way back to his cart, less thirsty but none the wiser for his encounter.

When Fili returned to collapse on the picnic blanket in fits of laughter, Sigrid shook her head and swatted at him.

"Fili, the poor man had no idea. Why didn't you just tell him?"

"It was too much fun," he wheezed. "He'll catch on at some point, or someone in the tavern will tell him, and he'll have a fine story to tell his friends." Fili noticed her pursed lips and crawled across the blanket to lay his head in her lap. "Oh, come, we gave him some 'fancy wine from foreign parts,' didn't we? He wasn't expecting that when he set out this morning." He looked up at her. "And not from the hands of someone as beautiful as you."

Sigrid shook her head at him again, more affectionately. Fili was an incorrigible tease, the more so when he was happy, and she knew that that was the underlying source of his high spirits. She smiled and softly smoothed one of his flaxen braids into place.

"Flattery. Do you think that's going to get you off the hook?"

He grinned up at her. "You're right. My good looks and charm should be enough on their own." He pulled her laughing face down and kissed her soundly, then let her go with a reluctant sigh. "It's time we got moving, though. Come on, love." He jumped to his feet and held out his hand to help her up. Together they packed away the remains of their lunch, stowed the picnic blanket, and mounted their ponies, ready to continue on their journey.


	5. Chapter 5

They came at last to the shallow ford where the stream Fili had mentioned crossed their path, and they turned off the road to follow it upstream along its grassy bank, their ponies picking their way carefully around and over low bushes and tufts of grass. After about a mile, Fili drew up his pony and looked around, shifting in his saddle to thoroughly assess the area. He pointed to a low grassy rise, screened with bushes, about fifty yards away from the stream.

"That's where we'll set up," he said. "It's not likely to rain tonight, but many's the traveller that's been caught in a flash flood when they least expected it. It's best not to sleep right on the riverbank."

Sigrid dismounted and led Daisy up the rise, flinging her reins around a bush, the pony immediately lowering her head to sample the grass, and stood and surveyed the surrounding landscape. The stream bubbled away nearby over its rocky bed, a prickly tangle of wild blackberry brambles lining its banks to her left, and on its other side, far to the right amid the grasses and shrubs, the grey ribbon of the road could just be seen leading off into the distance. The bushes of the rise would screen them from all but the most observant of travellers, with the smoke and light of their fire the only clear indication of their presence. Sigrid looked around as Fili came up beside her, undid Daisy's girth strap and removed her saddle, and replaced her bridle and bit with a loose halter. Daisy gave a comfortable shake of her withers as the saddle came off.

"Let's water the ponies and give them a rub down, and then we'll set up camp," he said.

Sigrid grabbed a pot and their waterskins from the saddlebags and led Daisy down to the stream, following Fili, leading the other two ponies, with Mindy and Daisy's bridles over his arm. She filled the containers with water as the ponies drank, while Fili cleaned the tack and went to investigate the blackberry bramble.

"There's nothing ripe there yet," he said as he returned. "If we stop here on our way back home there should be plenty, though."

He slung the waterskins and the tack over his shoulder, and Sigrid carried the pot of water as they led the ponies back to the campsite. Fili hunted through the saddlebags for a couple of brushes and they gave their ponies a good grooming. He then drove a heavy stake into the ground with his foot and tethered them on long ropes, and they began grazing contentedly.

"They'll be fine overnight. We'll water them again in the morning before we leave. Now for us. Did you want a fire, love? We still have plenty to eat, unless you want me to hunt something?"

The hopeful look in his eyes suggested that he wouldn't have minded at all if Sigrid had asked him to go and kill something for their supper, and she laughed. "No, we don't need to cook, let's eat what we have. But I would like a fire, please. I want to warm some wash water."

Fili soon had a fire crackling inside a ring of stones, and Sigrid set the pot of water on it to warm. She took the posy of lavender that Hannah had given her from her blouse and crumbled a few flower heads into the warm water, the fragrance soothing and refreshing as she dipped a cloth into the pot and wiped away the grime, perspiration and horse smell of the journey. Fili, distracted from setting up the camp by the sight, put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed the back of her neck.

"Mmm, you're much more fun to travel with than the Company," he murmured. "You smell better, too."

"Really?" she teased. "You mean to say the dwarves didn't bathe in flower water every evening? Not even Dori?"

"We barely bathed at all. Apart from Rivendell, the best wash we had was in the barrels going down the Forest River."

Sigrid gave him a sidelong grin over her shoulder as she dried her face. "You had a good wash in Laketown. You had to, if I remember. You smelled of fish when you turned up at my house."

"Ah, well that was your Da's doing, not mine," he chuckled, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. "You'll have to take that up with him. You've inspired me to go clean up in the stream, though."

Sigrid handed him her cloth and towel, and he took off with a jaunty stride down to the stream to wash.

* * *

They ate the leftovers of their picnic for supper, Fili making use of the fire to toast some of the bread and cheese in a frypan, and eating it hot with cautious fingers. There was plenty of wine still in the wineskin, Draupnir's two cups notwithstanding, and they leaned back on their bedrolls and sipped a goblet each, watching the dying flames as the sun set over the road they'd just travelled, and the stars came out one by one in the dusk.

Sigrid sighed.

"What is it, love?" Fili murmured.

She gave a wan smile. "I feel a thousand miles away from everything. It's an odd feeling."

Fili's brows drew together, concerned. "I hope it's a good feeling, though. That's why we're here."

"Yes," she said, unconvincingly. She cast a restless eye around the camp site. "It's hard to just _stop_. I feel I ought to be doing something."

Fili sat up straighter against his bedroll and stretched his legs apart, patting the ground between them. "Come sit with me, love. I know you've been feeling stressed. Relaxing is a skill you need to practise, you know, like any other."

Sigrid crawled over to her husband, and settled herself back against his body. He put his arms around her waist, lifting one hand to loosen her hair and sweep it to one side. He was warm and comfortable, and she sighed again, this time in contentment, her hands sliding along the muscles of his forearms. He murmured softly in her ear.

"Relax, love. Tell me about your garden."

She drew in a big breath, and let it out slowly. "There's not much to tell. I've got celery, radish, lettuce and cucumber coming up now, and I've planted leeks, parsnips and turnips for the autumn. I've also got some violets and Sweet William and sweet peas."

He laughed softly. "Sweets for the sweet. How often do you go there?"

She felt one of Fili's hands let go of her waist to slide up her back, and his warm, strong fingers started gently massaging the muscles at the nape of her neck.

"As often as I can, when Da and Tilda and Bain are out." She closed her eyes, the better to concentrate on his touch. It was bliss.

"Tell me, love, what do you like about it?"

"Mmm. I can't think while you're doing that. The garden… there are no reminders there, no problems. No babies, no pregnancies, no insensitive comments. I don't have to think about it. That's what I like about it."

His hand paused for the briefest of moments, then resumed, moving across to her shoulders.

"I should have paid more attention these last few months, love. I've let you deal with that all on your own. I'm sorry."

She tried to turn in his arms to face him, but he stopped her, bringing both hands up to gently rub her shoulders and back.

"Fili, no, don't blame yourself. I stopped talking to you. I shouldn't have."

She felt his sigh, a warm breath against her ear. "Perhaps there's blame on both sides, then. In the end it doesn't matter. What matters is what we're going to do about it."

He reached up and stroked her hair, again sweeping it to the side away from his face, and ran the back of his finger down the exposed skin of her neck.

"I'd do anything in the world to give you what you want, Sigrid," he whispered. "You know that, don't you?" He slid his arms back around her waist and pulled her tight against him. "And I haven't been able to give you this. I feel powerless. I don't like it."

She leaned her head against his and reached a hand back to touch the side of his face. "I know, my love. I can see how much it grieves you." She let her hand fall, and looked down. "That's why I stopped talking about it. It hurt to see you feel that way."

"Grief." He gave a thoughtful nod. "That's what it is. Beloved, if we're going to grieve, we need to do it together." He relaxed his hold and reached up to stroke her hair again. "My love, my sweet, sweet Sigrid. I can face any grief in the world if I have you at my side."

He punctuated his words with a line of soft kisses against her neck, and she melted. "Oh, my love. My Fili. There's nowhere else I could ever want to be." Again she wanted to turn around to embrace him, but again he held her against his body, his arms gentle but determined. Clearly he wanted her to stay where she was. She trusted her husband implicitly, but she'd also learned from experience that he usually knew very well what he was doing, so she caressed the forearm wrapped around her waist and leaned her head back, closing her eyes as he tenderly planted another soft kiss on her, and another. His lips were warm velvet, and his braids slid against her skin like silk. In between his kisses he whispered to her in Dwarvish, and his words were like music: "my beloved, my jewel, pulse of my heart."

Around them the dusk had faded into night, and the fire had fallen into glowing embers.

Fili's hands pulled Sigrid's blouse loose from her breeches, and slid underneath to find the laces of her stays, unthreading them from the eyelets, and he removed it and let her blouse fall back down over her body. He took Sigrid's arm and lifted it beside his head, slowly running his hand down to her breast, and cupped its weight through the fabric, his thumb slowly grazing back and forth across her nipple. His touch was slow, sensuous and lush, and with his lips against her neck and his voice still murmuring words of love, she was spellbound. She moaned and arched her back, and turned her head towards him to seek his lips.

He obliged her, and his lips tasted of wine and Fili, equally intoxicating. When he released her mouth he whispered to her. "Relax, love. Let me take care of you."

She leaned her head back against his shoulder with a sigh. His hands roamed her body over her shirt, strong and sure, then slid underneath, seeking the smoothness of her skin. Another moan fell from her mouth as he found her breasts, and she heard him catch his breath at the sound. He caressed her breasts, rolling and teasing her nipples, his head angled so that he could watch her face, and then he slid one hand down to press through her breeches at the junction of her thighs. He held her body with one arm as she arched her back again, her breath gasping, and began to work her rhythmically with his other hand in slow, driving circles. She turned her face towards his once more, and when his hand dipped under the waistband of her breeches and slid into her wet heat, she curled her hand up into his hair with a gasping breath and held on.

He knew her so well. He knew her body, her mind, her moods, her responses. He tried to claim he didn't, that she was still a mystery to him at times, but she knew better. He knew when she needed to be distracted from herself, when her thoughts and worries were getting the better of her, and he knew how best to do it. He knew how to bring her to the edge without letting her fall over, building her up and drawing it out, holding her exactly where he wanted her, for as long as he wanted. And when she couldn't stand it any longer, when the exquisite torment he'd brought her to had reached its limit, he knew how to send her crashing over the edge, and he was there to catch her.

Fili's fingers were deep inside her, her breeches halfway down her thighs and his other arm wrapped tight around her, when she peaked. She cried out as wave after wave of release flooded through her, its warmth pulsing though her to her fingertips, until at last she collapsed against his body and let him hold her.

He held her close as she caught her breath, trembling, and once again his lips were at her neck, his face nuzzling against her skin. He was waiting, for her to recover, to be ready for him. She was; she had never wanted him so much. She turned in his arms and with two fistfuls of his shirt, pushed him backwards onto the ground, her hips moving against his shaft. She leaned in close, her lips ghosting over and around his face and rubbing her cheek against him, before whispering in his ear.

"Fili, I want you inside me. Now."

Her words caused him to draw in a sharp breath, and she practically saw his pupils dilate. He flipped her onto her back and tugged down her breeches, and she kicked them off, pulling his open and taking him into her hands. He positioned himself where he needed to be, and she guided him inside her, her hands reaching up to his shoulders and threading up into his hair as he began moving. He settled down onto his elbows and brought his face close to hers, his hair falling all about her, and she brushed it out of the way to bring him down to her mouth. His tongue delved inside her, mimicking the movements of his body, and when he broke off the kiss he murmured to her, his voice husky and breathless.

"I haven't given up hope, amrâlimê. I never will."

She had told herself she had given up, but there must have been an ember among the ashes, because she felt a flicker fan into life at his words. Fili had all the strength she needed, if only she would take it, and she did. She let his will and his optimism fill her soul. He was right, it was not yet time to despair. She held him close as he thrust into her, faster and faster, and as he groaned and spilled himself inside her she caressed his face and let herself think maybe, maybe this time would be the one.

They fell asleep where they were, under the stars, wrapped in each other's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

The midsummer night was short, and the dawn came early, a chirruping chorus of birdsong waking Fili as the first faint light began to spread across the eastern sky. Sigrid was curled up against his side, her arms tucked under the blanket for warmth, still sleeping. He kept still so as not to wake her, and listened to the finches and warblers in the bushes around them welcoming the dawn. It was an experience they didn't have in their chambers deep inside the mountain, where they were removed from both the sounds and the light of each new day until it was advanced enough to shine through the shaft in their ceiling, and it was a beautiful way to wake up. Not to mention that beside him, Sigrid's breath caressed his skin with every soft exhalation, and one of her hands was resting lightly on his stomach. Also a beautiful way to wake up. He risked moving to glance down at her face, and felt a surge of tenderness at the sight of the smile that was on her lips. Last night he had told her there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, and it was true. He'd do anything she asked of him. He _had_ done everything she'd asked of him. He remembered all the ridiculous theories and suggestions for falling pregnant that they'd tried out, and smiled half-heartedly at the recollection. He'd been content to sit back and let her make all the decisions, and go along with all her different schemes, but he was starting to realise the burden that that had put on her. It meant she had carried all the responsibility, and fed into her natural tendency of taking all the blame upon herself when things didn't work out. He had to rectify that. It was not her fault they hadn't conceived; nor was it his, he realised. The powerlessness that he had felt, the anguish that had driven her away and made her feel that she couldn't talk to him, had stemmed from the fact that he felt their fertility _should_ be something that they had control over, when in reality it wasn't. The trick, he knew now, was to keep trying and hoping, while realising they had no control over the outcome. Sigrid had given up in the end, unwilling to let herself hope any longer when each month's disappointment hit her so hard. But last night, he had watched as hope returned once again to her eyes, and it was his doing, his words that had put it there. If the disappointment and grief was to continue for them, he would need do his best to cushion the blow. This time, he'd make sure she would not feel she was facing it on her own.

He snapped out of his reverie as felt the hand on his stomach stretch out to circle his waist. She was awake.

"Good morning, beloved," he murmured.

"Mmm, good morning, my love," Sigrid whispered. Fili lifted his arm and she shifted to put her head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket up to her chin. He cuddled her close.

"It's cold out there," she said, sliding a hand up to his chest. "You're warm."

He grinned. The weather seemed quite mild to him. He turned and kissed her hair. "I told you you'd have a warm bed. Were you comfortable?"

"Very." She yawned. "It's so early, though. The birds aren't going to let us sleep in, are they?"

"It's the great outdoors, love. We rise with the dawn. Or, we can wake up with the dawn, and then lie here in our bedroll for as long as we want. Either way."

Sigrid laughed. "I vote for the second one."

"Good. So do I." Fili pulled her closer, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. There might well be further disappointment in store for them, but now, in this moment, to hear Sigrid laugh, and to know that she was happy… He smiled, and stroked her hair, and listened to the birdsong bringing in the new day.

* * *

After a late breakfast they broke camp and repacked their saddlebags, loaded the pack pony and saddled up to continue their journey. The day was clear and sunny, with dragonflies flitting through the reeds along the banks of the stream as they made their way back to the road.

"There are farms all along the way, aren't there?" Sigrid asked as they watered the ponies, taking the opportunity to top up their water skins before leaving the stream behind them.

"Some are set well back from the road, but yes," Fili replied. "The most we'd go would be about fifteen miles without coming across someone. We don't have to stop if you don't want to."

"I don't mind. I was thinking about fresh bread, actually. Will we be able to barter?"

Fili laughed. "Barter or buy – we've got coin. But you've only just had breakfast, love. Thinking of food again already?"

"Must be the fresh air," she replied with a smile. "I tell you, if I smell someone baking, I'm going to be banging on their door."

They continued on, and stopped for lunch about two hours down the road. They laid out their blanket under the shade of a small tree, close by the road, and finished off the last of the picnic food they had brought with them. Sigrid took a sip of her wine, and lifted the goblet towards Fili.

"So who's going to be cooking tonight, O Captain of the Camp?"

He grinned, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the nickname. "Me. Rabbit stew. Let me know if you spot one."

"I will." She finished her wine, and Fili crawled across to her to lay his head in her lap. They relaxed in the shade, Sigrid leaning back on one hand, the other playing with one of Fili's braids, and watching the dappled sunlight dance about them as a light wind blew through the leaves overhead. Fili closed his eyes, his hands folded on his chest and one ankle crossed over the other.

"I could go to sleep," he murmured. "You're a very comfortable pillow, love."

Sigrid reached out beside her to the bag of plums and let one fall onto Fili's chest. He gave a start and clutched at it, peering down along his chest, and chuckled when he saw what it was.

"Well, now you're just being provocative."

"No, just making sure you don't fall asleep," she said airily. He grinned and took a bite, then looked up at her and held the plum up to her mouth. She leaned forward and tried to reach it, but Fili moved it from side to side, both of them laughing until he finally allowed her to catch his hand with both of her own and bring the fruit to her mouth for a juicy bite.

They were both startled to hear a deep, melodious voice suddenly addressing them. "Oh, to be young and in love on a summer's day. Pardon the interruption, my friends."

Fili jumped up quickly from the blanket. A traveller on horseback had pulled up on the road next to them, dismounting and flinging his reins around a branch, before moving toward them. Fili took a stance between Sigrid and the stranger, his eyes wary, and Sigrid leaned out to peer around him. The direction of the sun threw the man's face into shadow, until he stepped forward, one hand outstretched towards Fili. He had red hair and a thin but kindly face, covered with freckles, with bright, intelligent eyes, and his voice held the measured tone of a professional performer.

"Owen, travelling minstrel, troubadour and poet, at your service." The stranger looked from Fili to Sigrid, and she saw a glint register in his eyes. He knew who they were.

Still cautious, Fili shook the man's outstretched hand. "Fili, and Sigrid, at yours and your family's."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord, my lady. How fares your trip to the Iron Hills? I'm headed there myself, as it happens." He leaned to the side to address Sigrid, still half hidden behind Fili on the rug. "My lady Sigrid, please let me say, your mother must have been a very beautiful woman."

Sigrid pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile. "She was. And yours must have found your excellent memory and quick wit a great help to her, as you grew up."

Owen inclined his head in approval, his eyes dancing with laughter at her response. Fili had stepped aside and was watching the exchange in surprise and confusion. He turned to Sigrid.

"Sigrid? What's going on? Do you know this man?"

She shook her head. "Never met him before in my life, my love." She saw Fili's look of puzzlement and climbed up from the blanket to stand beside him. "But I'll wager he's just come from Dale, where he performed at the tavern for what would it be, four nights?" She smiled at her husband and explained. "He's been talking to my Da. That's where Da was, that night, when we… when I… when I went to his house but couldn't find him. He and Bain were at the tavern." She smiled back at the traveller and raised an eyebrow. "To see the show of the visiting minstrel. I'll have to tell Da you think he's not much to look at."

Owen laughed. "Not at all, not at all, I was merely observing that you don't take after him, that's all. You must therefore take after your mother's side. And, if I may say, with all due deference to your good husband here," he nodded encouragingly at Fili, "that if you take after your mother, she must have been very beautiful."

"Yes, yes, very prettily done," said Fili grudgingly, while Sigrid blushed and demurred. "You're headed to the Iron Hills as well, you say? That's great."

"Indeed I am. One learns much over a tankard of ale in the Dale tavern, and your travels were a popular topic of conversation. Although my face is no recommendation to the lasses, there are one or two ladies along this road who aren't too averse to a sweetly-tuned song featuring their name, and with the rumour of a feast in your honour at the end of the road… well, I felt the lure of the open road beckoning me onward."

"Which means, you smelled a profit," laughed Sigrid. "It's not certain, but if there is going to be a feast for us in the Iron Hills, we'd love to have you sing, Owen."

Fili slowly turned towards her. "They may have their own entertainers in mind, though, Sigrid. We really had better check with Dain before we make any promises…"

"Of course. You're right, my love." Sigrid held out her hand to Owen. "Come and find us when we arrive at the Iron Hills and we'll see what we can do." Owen shook her hand, and then held his out to Fili again.

"Thank you most kindly, my lady, I will indeed. It was a pleasure meeting you, my lady, my lord. I will press on, however. There is a certain young lady residing about ten miles ahead who would be distraught if she learned I passed by without visiting, and I'd hate to be the cause of such distress, if it's within my power to prevent it. Good day, my lord, my lady." Owen executed an elegant bow, and returned to his horse, mounting smoothly and setting off with a friendly wave.

Fili and Sigrid stood side by side, waving, as Owen headed away, up the road. Fili turned to Sigrid and regarded her for a moment, his lips pursed, but with a tell-tale dimple smiling in his cheek.

"I don't like him," he said brightly.

Sigrid laughed and poked him in the ribs. "Oh, Fili, you're not jealous? Because he complimented me?"

Fili caught hold of her hand and used it to pull her closer. "You blushed."

"Unfair! I don't have control over that," she said in pretended indignation, leaning into his chest with a smile. "Yes, he's a charmer. He's a travelling performer. If he wasn't charming he'd be out of business."

"You scold me when I flatter you," he grinned, his arms sliding around her waist. "I didn't see you give him such short shrift."

She paused, and looked into his eyes.

"That's because yours is the opinion I value most in this world, love. I want it to be the truth."

Fili shook his head fondly. "Ah, love. I couldn't tell you something that wasn't the truth. But let's let young Owen go on ahead, and come sit down with me on the blanket a while longer." He grinned at her, all dimples and mischievous blue eyes. "I want to see if I can still make you blush like that."


	7. Chapter 7

It had been all too easy, Sigrid thought with a wry smile. Strangers, yes; crowds, definitely – but Fili? They'd been together for over five years now, and even in the beginning it could never have been said that she was bashful around him. Quite the opposite, in fact. She'd never have thought he'd have been able to do it. Back at their lunch stop under the trees she had laughed and tossed her head, and stared him down, and defied him to do his worst, but all he had had to do was slide down beside her on the blanket, put his lips to her ear, and whisper two words to her.

" _Kitchen table."_

And now, riding side by side on the dusty road, the afternoon sun lowering in the sky behind them, she glanced across at Fili, and was met with his laughing blue eyes and dimples.

Two words, that was all it had taken. Two words that had conjured up such images in her mind, images of the two of them…

She shifted awkwardly in the saddle, lost for a moment in contemplation, then glanced again at Fili, and grinned. And blushed. Again.

* * *

Fili caught another furtive glance from his wife, and grinned as he saw the colour rise in her cheeks. To be honest, he hadn't expected it to be quite so easy to make her blush, and to see her blush again, hours later… well, there was something going on. He looked at her again, sideways, through narrowed eyes. Whatever was she thinking about? He suspected, or rather hoped, that he would find out later that evening. Until then, he grinned to himself, he would just sit back and enjoy the show.

His attention was caught by a rustle in the bushes beside the road. He swung his bow from his shoulder, nocked an arrow and pressed Mindy toward the bush. He loosed as a rabbit darted out, and shot it cleanly. He jumped down and retrieved his arrow, then held up the rabbit to Sigrid with a cheery grin.

"Rabbit stew tonight, as promised!"

She smiled at him approvingly, her blush gone, distracted from the thoughts that had produced it. "I never doubted you for a second, O Lord of the Hunt." She paused, and wrinkled her nose. "Just don't ask me to clean it."

* * *

They rode a half-mile further, at last coming to another shallow stream, slowly trickling its way across the road over a bed of gravel. A rough path led away from the crossing to the south, and through the bushes and low trees Sigrid spotted a plume of smoke rising into the air, and guessed it must be the house that Owen had been so eager to visit. They turned to the north and headed upstream, Fili selecting a campsite a couple of hundred yards off the road, not far from a small pond. The stream there had been dammed with a number of slender tree trunks, rocks and earth, but whether by nature or by design Sigrid couldn't tell. Ferns grew abundantly around the pond, shaded by flourishing young trees, having taken root so close to the water supply that their branches were growing out over the pool itself, and Sigrid stood in their shade as they watered the ponies.

"The ponies can drink here, but we'll go upstream where it's flowing faster to fill the waterskins," Fili said as he unsaddled Daisy. They piled the saddlebags and tack in a clearing and gave the ponies a rub down, and Fili tethered them for the night, where they were contented, as usual, to graze for their supper.

Sigrid, meanwhile, searched through the food bags for ingredients for the stew. "Onions, carrots, potatoes," she said, holding them up to Fili. She also found a little flask of oil, and some flour to thicken the gravy. "What can I do to help?"

"You can make the fire, beloved, and chop those up. I'll clean the rabbit."

Sigrid grabbed Fili by the shoulders and turned him away from her, shooing her hands at him as she pushed him away. "Go. Down there. Far away."

He chuckled at her as he walked away, calling back to her over his shoulder. "You eat meat, Sigrid. Surely you know where it comes from?"

"Of course I know, but that doesn't mean I have to see it," she called back. "Or smell it. Having my meals served up for me every day for the last five years must have made me a bit soft."

* * *

Sigrid had a crackling fire going and a pan on it to heat by the time Fili returned, the rabbit neatly skinned and cleaned, and with a handful of wild sage he had found growing in a sunny clearing. He browned the meat in the hot pan, then threw in the vegetables, the smell of frying onions making Sigrid's mouth water, and drizzled a little of their wine over it and let it bubble away. He mixed in the flour and herbs and topped it up with some water, stirring it together to make a gravy, and set it in a cooler part of the fire to cook. They washed off the dust of their journey and laid out their bedrolls while the stew simmered, the smells wafting from the pan causing Sigrid to peer impatiently into it at frequent intervals, until at last it was ready.

"Oh, that was so good," Sigrid sighed contentedly, mopping up the remains of the gravy in her bowl with a piece of bread. The last rays of the sunset were glowing dimly in the west, and one by one the stars were coming out above them. "My compliments to the cook."

Fili chuckled. "I can tell you liked it, love. What did you have, three serves? You've eaten nearly as much as I have."

Sigrid placed her bowl near the fire, and curled up on her bedroll, another satisfied sigh escaping her lips. "Mmm, dwarvish appetites must be catching. I'm so full. I could go straight off to sleep." She smiled at Fili and her eyes slowly drifted shut.

"Not so fast, Sigrid mine," Fili said, lying down next to her on his bedroll. "I want to know what you were grinning about all afternoon."

She opened her eyes, peering at him from under her lashes, and there was a glint of mischief their depths.

"Not now. I know what will happen. I'll tell you in the morning."

Fili raised his eyebrows. Her answer was intriguing, but if she didn't want to talk about it, he was not going to press her. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the stars.

"You know, I'm annoyed that that minstrel managed to creep up on us without me noticing," he muttered, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "I should have been paying more attention."

"That was my fault," Sigrid murmured. "I distracted you."

He turned to her with a smile. "You're very distracting."

She smiled back at him. "I'll take that as a compliment. I wasn't worried, though. You had everything under control."

He looked into her eyes, and saw there the unshakeable faith she had in him. He felt he needed to do more to be worthy of it, though, especially since he had felt a twinge of real jealousy at that ridiculous minstrel's banter, for all that he'd laughed it off. He looked back up at the stars. It wasn't a lack of faith in Sigrid that caused his jealousy. It was deep in his nature. "A fierce and a jealous love," Bilbo had described it once. "The desire of the hearts of dwarves." Bilbo had been referring to objects, not people, the night the Company had gathered at his hobbit-hole in the Shire, but the description captured his feelings for Sigrid exactly. He sighed, and rubbed his forehead again, and looked back down at her.

She was asleep.

* * *

Sigrid slept through the dawn chorus the next morning, snuggled against Fili's side in her blankets, and Fili let her be. He hadn't known she was so tired, but he knew very well her propensity to carry on without thinking of herself, and resolved to keep a better lookout. And speaking of lookouts, he thought to himself, there was a quiet but persistent rustling coming from the bushes by the pond. He sat up cautiously, not wanting to disturb Sigrid or alert the intruder, if an intruder it was, and reached underneath his bedroll for his hunting knife.

He made his way down towards the pond as quietly as his heavy tread would let him. He moved slowly, keeping hidden from view, and reached out a hand to pull back a branch to give himself a look at the intruder, his knife at the ready.

He nearly dropped it in surprise.

It was a child. A small, fair haired boy, five or six years of age, was crouched beside the pond, setting boats made from pieces of stripped bark afloat on the water, and poking them on their way with a stick. He looked around at Fili with wide blue eyes, and Fili hurriedly tucked his hunting knife away in the waistband of his breeches behind his back.

"Hello. You're awake, then," the boy said, his soprano voice distant and dreamy. He turned back to his boats.

"I am," Fili said guardedly. The boy had evidently seen them sleeping; he must have been here since before dawn. Fili looked around; there was no sign of anyone else. "What's your name, child? Where have you come from?"

"Olle. I've come from my house, down there." He pointed south, then looked back over his shoulder at Fili, his eyes wide and disarming. "You're a dwarf, aren't you? I've heard tales about dwarves. And dragons. Have you ever met a dragon?"

"That depends what you mean by 'met,'" Fili laughed. "I'm pleased to meet you, Olle. I'm Fili, and yes, I am a dwarf. I'm on my way to the Iron Hills with my wife Sigrid. Did you see her sleeping, up at the campsite?"

Olle smiled, his elfin face lighting up like the dawn. "She was pretty. Can I meet her?"

"Of course you can. She should be awake by now. Come up and share our breakfast."

* * *

Sigrid sat up on her bedroll, rubbed her face, and looked around. Fili wasn't anywhere in sight. She called out his name, and heard his answering shout from the direction of the pond.

"We're here, love."

She rubbed her face again. It had sounded like Fili had said "we" – she must still be half asleep. She burrowed back into her blanket and waited for him to return, a small smile playing on her lips at the thought of telling him what she'd been grinning about yesterday afternoon. She sat up, her smile fading and her eyes widening when she saw him walking back towards their camp, a grin of amused resignation on his face, hand in hand with a small child.

"Olle, this is my wife Sigrid. Sigrid, meet Olle. He'll be joining us for breakfast." Fili's grin broadened at her bewilderment, as Olle casually took a seat beside her on Fili's bedroll and looked up at her, smiling.

"Hello Sigrid. Did you know, Fili's a dwarf," Olle said, his soft, high voice quite matter-of-fact, but clearly pleased at being the bearer of such an interesting piece of information. "He met a dragon and he's going to tell me about it." The child turned his wide eyes towards Fili expectantly.

"Is he now? It's quite a tale," said Sigrid, still bemused. "You'll definitely need something to eat." Her gaze followed Olle's up to Fili, who shrugged at her, all disingenuous blue eyes and dimples. Fili left them to search the foodbag for breakfast, bringing back some cheese and the last of the bread and plums. They watched Olle eat, his eyes lighting up again as he tentatively nibbled at a plum, and Sigrid asked him where his parents were.

"My Da's dead, Mam says. It's just her and me at our house. Except when she has visitors, that's when I come up here to sail my boats."

Sigrid and Fili exchanged glances, not needing words to see that they both shared the same suspicions, and Sigrid pursed her lips. "Well, Olle, Fili will tell you the tale of the dragon, but after that, if it's all right with you, we might come with you back to your house. There are a couple of things I'd like to say to your mam."


	8. Chapter 8

Fili did his best to make the tale of the dragon's attack on Laketown exciting for young Olle, whilst leaving out the gorier details that were unsuitable for his tender years. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and flapped it to imitate the dragon's wings as he swooped and dived on the child, leaving him in breathless laughter, and showed Olle how to hold his arms to fire the fatal black arrow at the loose scale in his hide, clutching at his side with a shriek as it hit and finally falling down dead on the grass with a last flourish of his blanket wings. He lifted his head and winked at Olle, who jumped on him with an attack of tickling to ensure the dragon was truly dead, and grinned across at Sigrid. He had expected to see her grinning back at him, laughing at his antics, and she was, but at the same time there was a shadow in her eyes that gave him pause. He scooped Olle over his shoulder and crawled towards her.

"What's wrong, love?" he murmured.

Sigrid glanced at Olle and shook her head. "It's nothing. Let's take Olle back to his mother." Clearly it wasn't nothing, but he let it go, trusting that she'd tell him in her own time. They stood up, Fili lifting Olle onto his shoulders, and set off towards his house.

From his vantage point on Fili's shoulders, Olle pointed their way back downstream to the road and onto the narrow path through the grasses and low trees that led to his house. The light southerly breeze wafted into their faces, bringing with it the delicious smell of freshly-baked bread. Sigrid inhaled deeply and then groaned, murmuring to Fili with a guilty glance up at the child on his shoulders.

"Oh, no! Bread! I want to tear strips off this woman, not barter with her!"

Fili wasn't sympathetic. "Quite the dilemma, love. Which one's going to win out, I wonder, outrage or stomach? If it were me, I'd go with stomach."

Sigrid replied with a muttered something under her breath that Fili didn't catch, although he had no trouble detecting the resentment and indignation in her pursed lips. She was angry and upset, and in no mood for his teasing. He stopped to lift Olle down from his shoulders, and bent down on one knee to speak to him.

"Olle my lad, why don't you run on ahead and let your mam know that we're coming. We'll be right behind you."

Olle's wide blue eyes became, if possible, even wider. "Promise?"

"Of course, lad."

Olle smiled and ran off to find his mother, and Fili turned to Sigrid.

"Come here."

He held out his arms, and Sigrid huffed, the set of her shoulders telling him she was determined to stay angry, but she stepped into them nevertheless.

"It's not like you to be this hostile, love," he said. "What's wrong? Tell me."

Sigrid drew back and sighed, her shoulders relaxing, her eyes on the buttons of his shirt as she fiddled with them. "It's so unfair," she began. "Olle's mother clearly doesn't deserve such a sweet child, and the way you are with him, Fili…" She looked up, and instead of anger, her eyes were full of love, pain, grief, sadness, hope – Fili was lost in them. "You'd make such a great father."

He took her face in his hands. "Ah, beloved. You, you would be the sweetest mother in the world. It's hard, isn't it, to see parents who don't appreciate what they've got? But Sigrid, let's not be too quick to judge Olle's mother. We haven't even met her yet."

Sigrid sighed for a second time. "I know," she grumbled. She leaned back in to his embrace and he slid his arms around her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she took in a few deep breaths. "You're right," she murmured at last. "It's not her fault she has a child and we don't." He looked back into her eyes. The grief was still there, and he brushed a strand of hair back from her face and kissed her, knowing that there wasn't anything he could do to remove it. She smiled at him wistfully, and laid a hand his cheek, and then they turned and continued walking towards Olle's house, hand in hand.

* * *

Olle's mother came out to meet them as they approached her neat, small farmhouse, dragged reluctantly outside by a determined Olle. She was nothing like Sigrid had expected, not that she could have articulated exactly what that was. She was a pretty, dainty woman about Sigrid's age, wearing an apron and carrying a tea-towel, with honey-coloured hair and Olle's wide, round eyes. As Sigrid stepped forward, rather than looking into a replica of Olle's baby blues, she saw that his mother's eyes were blue-grey, almost the same colour as her own.

"Hello. I'm Sigrid, and this is Fili," Sigrid said. "We met Olle up at the pond this morning."

"Ingrid," she replied, the knots she was twisting into the tea-towel betraying some nervousness. It eased as looked down at her son fondly. "Thank you, I'm so glad you brought him back home. Usually I'd come up to the pond and sit with him for a while, but today…" She paused as she smiled at him, then recollected herself and looked back up at the two of them. "But listen to me, going on so while you're standing in the yard. Please, do come in." Ingrid motioned for them to precede her into the house, and with a glance at Fili, Sigrid went inside.

Ingrid set the three of them up at the table and bustled around the kitchen, placing mugs of tea in front of Sigrid and Fili, and pulling loaves of bread out of the oven, the warm scent filling the air around them. Beside her, Sigrid knew Fili was grinning at her, waiting to see if she would ask Ingrid about buying some of the bread, but she pursed her lips and didn't look at him. Fili told Ingrid of their journey and how he had come across Olle sailing his bark boats on the pond that morning.

"Olle loves that pond," Ingrid said. "His father Gunnar built it, though he died before Olle was old enough to know him. Gunnar stocked the pond with trout, too, and he used to fish there for hours, just staring into the water. He called it his 'pondering time.'" Ingrid smiled to herself, her thoughts far away, then, as she had earlier, abruptly recollected herself. "There were some as called him a dreamer, but he was a good man."

"And I'm guessing Olle takes after him," said Sigrid softly, as Fili reached out to ruffle the child's hair. She was finding all the preconceptions she had had of Olle's mother to be vanishing like puffs of smoke, when faced with the reality of her situation. "What happened to him, Ingrid?"

"He died, over five years ago now," Ingrid replied. "In his sleep. One night he said he had a headache, and he went to bed, and never woke up." She gave a funny sort of helpless shrug as she looked at them, and then shook her head bitterly. "I don't understand it. I never will. Some as should live are taken from us, while others live on and on, a misery to themselves and their fellows, and begrudging every joy..." She suddenly stopped, as if shocked to hear her own words, and a wild, haunted look came into her eyes for the briefest of moments, quickly clamped down under a veneer of distant civility.

"Well, I thank you, again, for bringing Olle home. There's visitors coming this morning, and he does take on so when they come. But never mind, you'll be wanting to be getting on with your journey, no doubt."

"I hate them," Olle murmured, shrinking into his chair. "Please, mam, let me go back to my pond."

"They're your grandparents, Olle. You mustn't speak about them that way," Ingrid said briskly, but Sigrid again saw the haunted look flash through her eyes, and again saw it clamped ruthlessly down. "I set a couple of extra loaves last night, for Olle's grandparents. If you need a loaf, please, do accept one with my thanks."

Sigrid glanced at Fili, frowning. She knew it was none of her business, to meddle in a stranger's family affairs, but something wasn't right. Olle was plainly terrified. Fili looked from her to Olle and then to Ingrid, a crease of concern between his brows.

"We'll take a loaf, Ingrid, and you'll have our thanks, if you'll answer me a question before we go," he said. He looked at her keenly. "Where's Owen, Ingrid?"

Ingrid froze, all the colour draining from her face. Then she tossed her head and gave a nervous laugh. "Who? I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."

Down beside Fili, the fear had left Olle's face, and he had lit up like the sunrise. "Do you know Owen?" he breathed. Ingrid reached towards her son, her face crumpling.

"Olle, no, please don't…"

"He's in the barn."

* * *

Sigrid led the sobbing Ingrid to a chair and put her arm around her, while Fili and Olle headed out to the barn in search of Owen.

"Ingrid, please, don't cry. We met Owen on the road. If you've found happiness again with him, it's no-one's business but yours."

Ingrid raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You don't understand. They'll take Olle. They'll take my son."

"Who will?"

"Gunnar's parents." Ingrid gestured hopelessly around her. "They own this farm, the livestock, everything. If they find out I have taken up with another man, they'll kick me out, and take Olle from me. They've threatened it so many times. He's terrified they'll do it." She sobbed again. "I am too. Please, you've got to go."

"They won't find out from us, Ingrid, please believe me," Sigrid said. She glanced up as Owen rushed into the room, his eyes blazing, closely followed by Olle. They both ran to Ingrid, Owen hauling her out of her chair into his arms, while Olle clasped both of them around the legs. Fili came and stood at the back of Sigrid's chair, one hand on her shoulder. Owen looked at the two of them defensively.

"So now you know, my lord, my lady," he said. He bent down and picked Olle up, circling Ingrid with his free arm and drawing her close. On hearing the titles he gave them, Ingrid looked from Owen to the two of them in wonder.

"You led us to believe…" Sigrid began. She didn't quite know how to finish.

"Ah, my apologies for that, my lady," Owen smiled weakly. "We can't risk any word getting back to Olle's grandparents until I've earned enough coin to get them out of here. Though I probably said too much as it was," he added, looking down at his sweetheart and back to Sigrid. "I was so close by, and your hair reminded me of my Ingrid so much, my lady – and your eyes are nearly the same colour, too." He smiled in earnest. "I was a bit distracted."

Fili nodded in reluctant agreement. "I can understand that."

* * *

Sigrid shook Ingrid's hand goodbye. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can do to help?" she offered. She was acutely conscious of all the assumptions she had made about the two of them, and how ready she had been to confront Ingrid, and although she hadn't acted on any of it, she felt vaguely that she owed Ingrid some type of reparation.

"No, thank you, Lady Sigrid, we'll work it out. As long as Owen gets himself OUT OF HERE," Ingrid shouted across to him a few yards away, where he and Fili were talking quietly. "You're forgetting Olle's grandparents are due any minute."

Owen nodded and shook Fili's hand, and the two of them rejoined Sigrid and Ingrid. Olle gave Fili a last hug before Owen picked him up.

"Goodbye, then, and our thanks. I'll come find you at the Iron Hills," Owen called as they waved. "Safe travels."

* * *

Fili took hold of Sigrid's hand as they slowly made their way back to their campsite, her other hand clutching one of Ingrid's fresh-baked loaves. They walked in silence, though Sigrid suspected their thoughts were dwelling on the same subjects. Her suspicions were confirmed when Fili lifted her hand to his lips.

"Ah, love, for all our troubles, we've been fortunate," he said quietly. "We've a lot to be grateful for."

"Can we do anything for them?" she asked.

"He's proud. He won't accept charity," Fili replied. "I'll find him employment at the Iron Hills, and then we can only hope there's enough drink flowing at whatever feasts we have to loosen everyone's purse strings. It's the only help he'll accept."

They walked on together in silence, listening to the quiet chattering of the stream and the chirping of the occasional songbird. Under the bright sunlight Sigrid reflected on how far she and Fili had come together in the last five years, the same time Ingrid had spent at the mercy of her in-laws; on the love of her family for Fili and of his family for her, and the unconditional acceptance and support that they'd received from both of them; and lastly on Fili and herself, and all the quirks of fate that had led them to each other and given them the power to freely choose to be together. She in turn lifted Fili's hand to her lips, and held it against her cheek. She knew very well, indeed, she had a lot to be grateful for.


	9. Chapter 9

Fili's sombre mood lasted only as long as the time it took them to break camp and repack the ponies, his sunny smile returning as his thoughts turned to the practical issues at hand. He wasn't given to introspection, and Sigrid well understood his philosophy of not worrying about things over which he had no control. Not for the first time, she wished that she could do the same, as she couldn't shake some lingering guilt at her readiness to condemn Ingrid, and found herself bothered by another anxious feeling that she couldn't quite put her finger on. As they rode onward, Fili chatted lightly about his plans for the evening's camp, though Sigrid knew from his frequent sidelong glances that he was concerned by her low spirits.

"There's a swimming hole I know of coming up ahead," he said. "But it's a good two hours' ride longer than any day we've ridden so far. Are you up for it, love? We can break the journey and get there tomorrow if you'd prefer."

"No, let's do it," she replied. She tried to smile. Fili had promised her a swim, when she had agreed to the trip – perhaps it would do her some good, take her mind off her worries. "What's it like?"

"There's a good deep pool, clear, and twice the size of Olle's. The last time I was there it was full of trout, so there'll be fish for supper, hopefully. You know, it's a pity Olle's pond was so muddy. It would have been interesting to see if Gunnar's trout stocks had survived."

Sigrid's smile faded as she looked away from Fili towards the road, lost in thought. There had been no-one left to maintain Olle's pond, because Gunnar had died. If he hadn't, no doubt Ingrid would have been content in her marriage to this day. Perhaps they would have had more children. What must she have gone through, losing her husband in those circumstances? And Olle, never to know his father, terrified of his grandparents, the two of them powerless to leave and dealing with the constant threat of homelessness and separation… Sigrid shook her head, her eyes misting up.

She snapped out of her reverie as she felt Fili's hand pulling on her pony's reins, drawing Daisy to a halt, and she looked at him in surprise.

"Sigrid." He was watching her, his brows contracted in concern. "Please, get down, love."

They dismounted, and he pulled her into his arms.

"We'll help them, beloved. It will work out. Don't worry, please."

Sigrid slid her arms around Fili's body and buried her face in his neck. She felt him rubbing her back as he murmured reassurances into her ear, and she drew in a series of deep breaths, trying to maintain her composure. It didn't help. She dissolved into tears.

He held her until her sobs subsided, then drew back and took her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"They will be fine, Sigrid. They will. We'll make sure of it."

"I know, Fili. It's not that." With a sudden insight she realised the source of her uneasiness and tears, and she felt sick inside. She pulled back and turned away, rubbing her forehead with a fisted hand. "That poor woman, with all she's been through, her husband dying, her in-laws making her life miserable… even with all that…" Sigrid took a deep breath. As unflattering as it was to her, he deserved the truth.

"I still envy her, Fili. For all her suffering, I still can't help thinking, 'at least she's got Olle.'" She looked down at her hands, and her voice trailed away to a whisper. "Does that make me an awful person?"

She looked back into his eyes miserably, expecting to see a reproach for the self-absorbed, selfish being that she was. Instead, they held love and understanding. Love and understanding, and sadness, and grief. He stepped forward and took her in his arms again.

"No, it doesn't. You're hurting, love. Don't blame yourself for it."

She buried her face in his neck again, and breathed him in.

* * *

He understood her reaction. Everything was a reminder for her. She was sensitive, and felt it deeply. He wanted to take away her pain, but he couldn't. All he could do was help her keep going in spite of it, so that's what he was going to do. He drew back, brushed a strand of hair away from Sigrid's face, and looked into her eyes.

"Sigrid. Listen to me. First, we're going to eat something, and then we're going to get back on our ponies and we're going to ride to our next campsite. And if you need to cry, cry. If you need to get angry, get angry. If you want to curse the world, do it. Whatever you need to do, I'll not judge you." He cast a hand at the scrubland around them. "There's no-one here to see, love. Only me. And I'm here for you anyway, no matter what."

Sigrid gazed at him, and slowly shook her head. His frown deepened.

"Five years," she sighed, "and I still don't know how you do that."

"Do what, love?"

"Say the exact thing I most need to hear." She smiled, weakly, but it was a genuine smile, her eyes soft and full of love, and a hand reached out to tug affectionately on one of his braids. He grinned in relief, and captured the hand playing with his hair and kissed it.

"Come on, let's go. Just promise me one thing." He paused and grinned at her. "Let's not befriend any more travelling minstrels."

* * *

Sigrid took another nibble of the lembas that Tauriel had made for her. She had almost forgotten they had it, but she had accepted it gratefully when Fili had pulled it out of the food bag and offered her a piece for a snack. It was rather like shortbread in texture, but not as sweet, and it was wonderfully sustaining. The sick feeling in her stomach, the result of the shame and self-reproach she had felt when she had acknowledged to herself that she envied Ingrid her son, was completely settled, although of course that could be due to her husband's loving eyes and wise words, rather than the waybread. She looked across at him, riding beside her, the setting sun shining on his blond hair and turning it orange as it waved in the slight breeze, and felt a rush of tenderness fill her heart. He noticed her gaze, and smiled at her.

"You know, I never did find out what made you blush yesterday. Care to enlighten me?"

Sigrid raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Ah, well. The kitchen table. You remember sneaking downstairs that night, our first Midwinter night together? I was just thinking about it, and how nice it would be to… how can I say it? Recreate the magic."

Fili slowly turned his face back to the road, his eyes glazing over. They rode on in silence for another five minutes, Sigrid chuckling to herself at having induced what seemed to be a catatonic state in her husband, until they struck a low stone bridge, traversing a stony, bubbling brook. They crossed the bridge, and Fili turned Mindy off the road to head downstream, threading their way single file down a narrow track through the bushes and trees for three-quarters of a mile or so, until they emerged into a grassy clearing. Sigrid pulled Daisy up and dismounted, leading her forward on foot to the centre of the clearing, and looked around in wonder.

A glassy pool of water filled one side of the clearing, fringed with thickets of bracken and overhanging trees. It was so clear that the rocks lining the bottom of the pond could be plainly seen, despite the fading light filtering through the trees. Sigrid could make out fish darting amongst the rocks, pausing then darting forward again as they searched for food, and scattering madly as Daisy lowered her muzzle to the water to drink. Birds twittered noisily at the intruders from their vantage point in the trees, and busy insects hovered over the pool, touching down briefly here and there and causing tiny rings to appear on the surface, disappearing just as quickly as they moved on. Sigrid looked around at Fili in delight.

"Oh, Fili, it's beautiful. Please, can we break the riverbank rule just this once? I want to camp right here."

He leaned on the pommel of his saddle and regarded her as he considered it, his pursed lips making his dimples pop in his cheeks. He grinned.

"All right. Just this once. Be it on your head if we get washed away in the night, though."

"It would be worth it," she grinned back.

They set up camp as the last light of the sunset faded around them, well practised by this time at tending the horses and preparing their bedrolls for the night. Fili lit a fire, and Sigrid started frying some potatoes in the frypan.

"Go catch me a trout, O Wizard of the Wilderness. A few, even, if you can manage it."

Fili rolled his eyes at her with a grin. "'If I can manage it,'" he echoed in mock derision. "Watch and learn, love." He made his way to the edge of the pool, looking intently at the rocks at the bottom, and rolled up his sleeves. He selected a spot and lay down on his stomach on the bank, and gently eased a hand into the water. A minute later there was a great splash, and Fili pulled his hand out of the water, clutching a wildly struggling trout, which he quickly dispatched with a sharp blow and tossed on the bank beside him.

Watching in amazement by the fire, Sigrid shook her head. "How did you do that?"

"They rest under rocks and overhanging ledges," he replied, already back on his stomach and easing his hand once again into the water. "If you tickle them under the belly, they go into a trance, and you can grab them. It's an old poachers' trick." He grinned mischievously. "Kili and I used to have competitions, growing up." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Want to try it?"

"Of course I do. Show me." Sigrid moved the frypan out of the fire and eagerly knelt beside Fili on the bank of the pool.

"Just give me one minute," he said slowly, and suddenly another fish burst out of the water, showering Sigrid with droplets, and thrashing about vainly in Fili's strong hand before going the same way as its predecessor. He turned to Sigrid with a smile.

"Hold your hand upward, like this, and wiggle your forefinger," he said, demonstrating in front of her. "Now, see those rocks there? Slide your hand underneath slowly, and wiggle your finger just like that, moving around until you feel a fish." Sigrid settled herself on her stomach, and with a grin at Fili, slid her hand into the water and under the rocks.

She gave a small cry. "Something moved," she shivered, half excitement, half trepidation.

"That would be a fish, love," Fili laughed. "I can't believe you grew up on a lake. Try again."

Sigrid gave Fili a look and slid her hand back under the water, wiggling her finger and feeling around. "We used nets in Laketown. Like civilised people. Wait – I've got one," she said. "Now what?"

"Tickle its underbelly, slowly, moving forward under its gills."

Sigrid grimaced, laughing.

"Yes, it's cold and slimy. It's a _fish_. Keep going, love." She kept rubbing the fish under the belly with her finger, until Fili called out. "Now! Grab it!"

She closed her hand around the fish and lifted it up, trying to keep her hold on it as it thrashed around wildly, spraying herself and Fili with water. She grasped at it with both hands as it slipped clear and disappeared into the water.

"I had it! Did you see?" she breathed. "I couldn't hold it in one hand, I don't have the strength you do." She sat up on the riverbank and started pulling off her boots. "I need both hands. I'm going in. How deep is it here?"

Fili grinned at her. "Maybe two and a half, three feet, deeper in the middle." She peeled off her breeches and shirt, and sat on the edge of the pool in her linens and stays, swinging her legs into the water. It was cold, and she shivered, but she slid in up to her thighs and waded gingerly towards an overhang, taking care not to lose her footing on the rocky bed. She looked up to ask Fili if she had chosen a promising spot, and noticed him gazing at her, a mixture of amazement and admiration on his face.

"What?" she shrugged, smiling back at him. "I want to catch a fish."

"You will, love." He shook his head at her, grinning, with the same look beaming at her in his eyes. "I don't doubt it for a second."

* * *

Sigrid snuggled into Fili's side and looked up at the stars. "Let's stay here another day."

"Gladly," he murmured. "I love watching you catch our supper."

Sigrid laughed. "I'll catch our breakfast and lunch too, as long as you clean them for me. They were so good." Her smile turned into a yawn. "I've eaten too much again. I'm so full, and so tired."

He kissed her hair. "It's been a big day. It was a long ride, even before you started wrestling with the fish."

"And I was so upset this morning," she observed. "And angry. I've been up and down like a yo-yo." She craned up to kiss his lips. "Lucky I have you to talk some sense back into me."

He caressed her cheek before she snuggled back into his side. "You have sense enough, love. You would have worked it out." He stretched out beside her and yawned. "But I'm more than happy to stay an extra day," he continued, and she heard the grin in his voice. "It will give me time to knock us up a makeshift kitchen table."


	10. Chapter 10

Sigrid was lying on the grass with one arm across her face shading her eyes, her other hand idly plucking blades of grass from the ground beside her and throwing them aside. She was dressed in a white blouse and blue skirt, her hair loose, and she was barefoot, her face relaxed in an expression of the utmost serenity. Fili had watched her earlier that morning as she had tucked up her skirts and stepped into the water downstream to wash her linens and riding clothes, now spread out around the campsite to dry in the sunshine. He had stepped in beside her and washed his own clothes, and made a bad fist of it, his eyes spending more time on Sigrid than on the task, irresistibly drawn to the sight of her damp blouse clinging to the curves of her body.

He had watched as she had tucked her skirts higher and waded into the shallows to catch a fish for their lunch, and was captivated by the joy he saw on her face. He realised he should have known, that once he had shown her the fishing technique she would wade in, literally and figuratively – when Sigrid made up her mind to do something, she threw herself into it with determination. He teased her, and called it stubbornness, but it was one of the many things he loved about her.

At lunchtime he had watched her as she ate, and she had had no idea what it did to him, to see the pleasure on her face as she licked her fingers and closed her eyes with a hum and a satisfied smile, no idea how it prompted him to think of other pleasures. And for all his confidence, for all his quips and innuendos, sometimes when he looked at her and saw her looking back at him, her grey eyes soft and full of promises, he felt as giddy as a schoolboy.

Now, after lunch, they relaxed on the grass, pleasantly full and with no more chores demanding attention. Fili pulled out one of his boot knives and a whetstone and began sharpening it, his favourite occupation for idle hours. Beside him, Sigrid lay and basked in the warm sun, drawing up one knee to slide her toes through the grass, her skirt falling back to reveal the creamy skin of her thigh, and there was the barest hint of a smile curving her lips…

Fili swore as the sharp blade of his boot knife nicked his finger. Sigrid's eyes flew open and she sat up and looked at him in concern.

"What is it, love?"

Fili shook his head, annoyed at his carelessness, but more annoyed that he'd disturbed her tranquil mood.

"It's nothing," he said, holding up his finger to show her the cut.

Sigrid's shoulders relaxed, and she grinned at him. "Do you want me to kiss it better?"

He grinned back at her, and held out his hand.

She crawled towards him and took his hand in both of hers, inspected the cut, and lifted it to her lips to plant a chaste kiss on it.

"I think you'll survive," she said with a smile. She turned his hand over and caressed it, then traced with a gentle fingertip the light scar on the back that ran down past his wrist. The smile faded from her face. She took his other hand and pushed his sleeve up, her fingers searching out another scar there that ran in a red, puckered line along his forearm, and he saw her eyes turn dark. Suddenly she stood up, and turned and ran towards the pool, pulling at the ties of her skirts. At the water's edge she threw off her blouse and let her skirts fall to the ground, and dived into the water.

* * *

Sigrid knew every scar on Fili's body, and knew what had caused each of them, from the light nicks on his hands and arms, to the solitary deep scar low down on his back, the unwelcome reminder of the blade that had nearly claimed his life and the orc that had wielded it. It was the only scar he had on his back, and she had wondered at that, but he had provided a simple explanation: until that day on Ravenhill, he had never once let an opponent get behind him. He didn't remember how he had been captured by the orcs, the blow to his head as he was thrown to the ground knocking him out and taking his memory with it, and she knew how frustrating that was for him as a warrior. He wanted to know, so he could prevent it ever happening again. All he had were Kili's and Thorin's accounts of how the orc Azog had stood on a ledge above them and held Fili up, stabbed him in the back, and tossed him down to the ground below, leaving him for dead.

He could have been dead.

 _He could have been dead._

Her lungs were bursting; she could hold her breath no longer. Her head broke the surface, and her gasping breath degenerated into a sob as she treaded water in the deepest part of the pool. She heard Fili's voice, and she turned, blinking away the mingled tears and river water in her eyes, and saw him there on the bank, calling her name as he shucked off his shirt and breeches and dived in after her.

She swam back towards him, and they met halfway. Fili hauled her out of the deep water into his arms, and she clung to him as his feet found purchase on the rocky bed of the pool.

His voice was low and tense in her ear. "Sigrid, what is it? What's wrong?"

She lifted her head. "I was so happy a minute ago. I don't understand it. Your scars…" She stopped and unwound one arm from his neck to wipe her face, then looked into his eyes again.

"Ravenhill. What if you had died, Fili? What if I never knew you?"

She asked in earnest: it was overwhelming, the sudden realisation that his life, and her happiness, had hung by a thread, the merest snip able to send them both crashing down. She didn't expect his reaction.

The worry on his face cleared and he laughed, all blue eyes and dimples.

"I didn't die, though, did I? I'm very much alive, Sigrid. I was the last time I looked, anyway."

Sigrid frowned. "Yes, but…"

His hand slid up to her face. "Beloved, stop. You're jumping at shadows." He ducked down, immersing them up to their necks, and spun around slowly, dragging her in a circle through the water. "You know how to do this. Breathe, love. Look where we are. We're here, and we're together. Don't dwell on might-have-beens, Sigrid. It makes you miss the moment. And this moment is too good to miss."

He gathered her close, and she slid her hands along the muscles of his shoulders and around his neck. She drew in a deep breath, and another. The air she breathed, infused with the scent of water and earth and grass, the feel of cool water and Fili's warm hands on her skin, and the sound of his low voice in her ear, brought her back to the present. The overwhelming feeling dissipated, as suddenly as it had hit her, and she looked at him sheepishly.

"You're right. I'm being silly."

He grinned at her. "No. You're not silly, love. Sometimes your imagination gets the better of you, that's all." His grin turned mischievous. "Come on. Race you to the other side."

* * *

They swam, and splashed, and wrestled, Fili letting Sigrid overpower him and toss him this way and that in the clear water. She was trying to force him backwards, her fingers intertwined with his and her legs tight around his waist, and this time he was resisting her efforts, when at the same moment they stopped, their laughter subsiding into panting breaths as they gazed at each other. Sigrid leaned in to whisper in Fili's ear.

"What are you waiting for?"

He remained frozen, searching her face. All day he had been waiting for her to come to him, but since her anxiety over her thoughts of Ravenhill, he had been waiting, trying to distract her with play, until there was no trace of shadow left in her eyes. He gazed at them, and they reflected only desire and the dancing light of the sun on the water.

"Nothing," he said, his voice low and husky in his throat, and he crushed her mouth to his.

He held her against his body with one arm, his other hand holding the back of her head as they kissed, avid and hungry, and carried her out of the water to the bank of the pool.

He laid her down on the grass and looked at her. He wanted to make her forget she'd ever thought about Ravenhill. He wanted to make her forget her own name. He wanted to leave her shaking.

From her lips he kissed his way down her neck, and was rewarded with her hum of pleasure and her fingers grasping at his wet hair. He knew from experience that their wet skin would be a hindrance to their intimacy in the end, and for a moment he contemplated leaving her to hunt up a towel, but he didn't have the heart. If he took his time, their skin would dry in the sunshine, and taking his time suited his plans perfectly. He slowed the pace of his kisses, and felt her sigh and sink back under his lips, her muscles relaxing as she caught on to his intentions. He continued his line of kisses down to her breasts, circling and teasing each in turn, and she held him to her. Then she spoke to him, her voice low and breathy, but betraying more than a hint of amusement.

"You've been wanting this all day. Don't think I didn't see you watching me."

He lifted his head and saw her impish grin, and he held her eyes in a challenge as he swirled his tongue around her nipple and kissed it softly.

"Have you been teasing me on purpose? All those glimpses of skin, the way you ate your lunch, everything?" he murmured.

"Mm-hm," she nodded, her eyes bright.

"Right," he said decisively. "Punishment."

He slid down her body, his plans for patience abandoned, and buried his tongue in her folds. She arched her back and moaned, and he hummed into her in response, and set about taking her apart. He slid his tongue over her firmly, kissing and pulling on her bud with his lips, and brought his fingers up to delve into her core and caress the bundle of nerves inside, relentlessly swirling and laving on her until he felt her approaching climax, and then, all of a sudden, he stopped.

"Fili, what… no…" He could see her come back down to earth as she realised what he was doing. "You beast… don't you dare…" She pummelled at him ineffectually, her cries part way between moans of frustration and reluctant laughter.

He crawled up her body with a sly grin and stopped her protestations with his lips. She slid her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, and he nuzzled his face across her cheek. "Stay with me, amrâlimê," he whispered against her lips. "It will be worth it, I promise." He held her close as he pulsed his way inside her and began a grinding rhythm, deep and slow, and he saw her head fall back and her eyes gently close, his name falling from her lips. She clung to him as he built her up again, holding her tight against his hips, and she cried out as she peaked, her eyes opening and connecting with his as she shuddered beneath him. He slowed momentarily, intent on drawing every last shiver from her body, then began again, deep and slow, feeling her sweet kisses and caresses and whispered words urging him on. When he could hold out no longer, he stepped up their pace, and she cried out for a second time as he lost himself inside her, leaving her shaking, as he had wanted, but himself shattered and defenceless and helplessly, utterly hers.

* * *

They lay snuggled in their blankets, Sigrid in his arms, looking at the stars. Fili pointed up into the night.

"See, there, that bright one. Start there, go down along those three, and around these ones at the bottom. That's 'Mahal's hammer.'"

Sigrid inclined her head towards his, following his finger. "We have that one. 'The Woodsman's Axe.'" She relaxed back against his shoulder and shrugged. "I don't know. It always looked more like a saucepan to me."

"Done. 'Sigrid's Saucepan' it is."

She laughed softly. "And what if I'd said it looked like an ugly troll face? Never mind. Let me do one for you." She pulled her hand out from under her blanket and pointed. "There, those two close to each other, and the two next to them. They're yours, my love. And they shall be known as… 'Fili's Boot Knife.'"

He snorted. "No, it bit me today. It doesn't deserve to be immortalised."

"All right. 'Fili's Other Boot Knife,' then."

He laughed, and pulled her closer. Then he took her hand in his, and pointed at the stars with her finger.

"This one, here." He traced a shape through the air. "It's yours."

"Mm, I don't think we have that one," she murmured as she slid her hand around his waist. "What's it called?"

"Fili's heart," he replied softly, and he turned and kissed her hair.


	11. Chapter 11

Lying on her stomach on her bedroll, her chin propped up on her fists, Sigrid was peering out through the tent flap at the rain. They had managed to pitch their tents amongst the protection of some low, thick bushes before the storm had hit them, with the gear keeping dry in one and themselves in the other, and had now only to wait it out. The ponies stood tethered together securely, sheltered from the wind and unconcerned by the rain, although they fidgeted and laid their ears back at every distant rumble of thunder. Beside her, Fili lay on his back and fiddled with one of his hunting knives.

"T," Sigrid said.

"Tree," Fili replied without looking up.

"No."

Fili rolled onto his stomach and looked out.

"Tack."

"No. You can't see the tack anyway, it's in the other tent."

"True enough." He looked again. "Thrush."

She gave him a little nudge with her shoulder. "No. You can't see any thrushes, you cheater. Come on, you're not even trying."

"All right, I give up. What is it?"

Sigrid grinned, and pointed out into the rain. "Tree _stump_."

"' _Tree stump_?'" Fili said incredulously with a grin of his own. "Now who's the cheater?"

"There was nothing else left," she laughed. "It counts."

Fili rolled his eyes and shook his head. "If you say so. Do you want to go again?"

"No," Sigrid replied. "We really have done everything. It's your turn to think of a game."

"Liar's Dice?"

"The drinking version?"

"Either."

"I vote for the dry version then. You can read my face like a book, and I always end up tipsy."

Fili grinned at her mischievously. "There's a reason it's my favourite."

Sigrid grinned back at him, then peered out the tent flap again. "Although the term 'dry' hardly counts, does it?"

Fili leaned out and took an appraising look at the clouds. "Summer storms don't usually last long. Just long enough to drench everything. We'll camp here tonight to give our things a chance to dry out, and make it to the inn tomorrow."

"Mmm, a warm bath," Sigrid said. She rolled onto her back and sighed. "I can't wait."

"And something other than rabbit stew for supper," Fili added. "I know you like it, but it's been three nights in a row now, and it's time for a change."

"I'm afraid tonight's supper will be cold and cheerless, rabbit or no. I don't think even you will be able to get a fire started tonight."

Fili shook his head. "Thanks for the compliment, love, but you're right, it'll be cold rations tonight. But it doesn't follow that it has to be cheerless." He paused, and his eyes were twinkling. "We could play the drinking version of Liar's Dice after supper."

* * *

They headed out the next morning under a clearing sky. The road, however, was water and mud, three inches deep in places, and it was heavy going for the ponies. Not once but twice Fili had to stop and replace pulled horseshoes, when Daisy and then the pack pony had skidded in the mud and each knocked one loose. By the time he had finished prising off the shoes, filing the hooves and hammering the shoes back on, he was a mud-smeared mess, and Sigrid wasn't much better, getting splattered as she stood and held the ponies' heads with a pat and a quiet word as he worked. They scraped their boots and wiped their clothes as best they could and pressed on, reaching the inn in the early afternoon.

The Pick and Shovel Inn was the only establishment that deserved the term on the road from Erebor to the Iron Hills. It was located about midway between the two, and had prospered since the reclamation of the Mountain, from the subsequent increase in traffic. A rickety second storey had been added to the low wooden building to house the increased numbers of weary travellers, and off to the side, amongst the fruit trees, was a new row of separate stable boxes for their weary mounts. Fili and Sigrid headed their ponies through the trees to the stables, and as he passed, Fili reached up and pulled one of the ripe fruits from a nearby bough and threw it to Sigrid.

It was a plum.

* * *

Sigrid rubbed her back as she led Daisy into one of the stable boxes.

"Are you all right, love?" Fili asked.

She grimaced. "My back aches," she said, arching her spine and kneading her lower back with her fists. "Being cooped up inside the tent all day yesterday didn't agree with me, apparently."

Fili dug into a pocket for his coin purse, and held it out to her. "Here. I'll take care of the ponies. You go in and get started on your bath, and when I get clean I'll give you a back rub."

Sigrid smiled and took the purse, and leaned in for a kiss. "That sounds very, very nice indeed. You should be careful, I might make a habit of it."

* * *

The front door of the inn opened straight onto the great room, where a half-dozen wooden tables and benches were lined up in front of a large fireplace. Three rough men, seated at one of the tables, looked around at Sigrid as she entered, and muttered darkly amongst themselves as they turned back to their tankards. Unsure what to do, Sigrid was about to turn and head back to the stables to wait for Fili, when a pleasant-looking woman, with a neat apron covering her skirt and grey streaks in the dark brown of the braid wound around her head, came out from a swinging door at the side of the room.

"Welcome, mistress," she said courteously to Sigrid as she approached. "Here for lunch?" She lowered her voice, looking back over her shoulder at the three men and her tone became less formal. "Come out the back with my lad and me if you'd rather not eat in here, lass. I wouldn't blame you."

Sigrid smiled in relief and held out her hand. "Thank you, but it's all right, my husband's with me. He's putting up our ponies in the stable. We'd like to stay the night, please. My name's Sigrid."

"You're most welcome, Sigrid," the innkeep said, shaking Sigrid's hand. "My name's Magnhild, but everyone calls me Maggie." She stepped back and looked Sigrid up and down, and raised her eyebrows with a smile. "Muddy morning? Would you like a wash basin or the full tub?"

Sigrid laughed and nodded. "You read my mind. The full tub please, if it's not too much trouble." She loosened the strings of Fili's purse and gave Maggie a few coins. Maggie thanked her and tucked them into her skirt pocket.

"You're not the first, dearie. It's always the way after the rain. I'll send my lad out to help your husband, too, if you like. If he's as muddy as you, I'll wager he'll be wanting to get inside and wash as well."

Maggie led Sigrid out through the swinging door and down a hallway. "Just down here. A nice spacious room, with a tub." She poked her head in a door as she passed and raised her voice. "Birger, put the big kettle on, there's a love, and then head out to the stables to help Mistress's husband." She turned to Sigrid over her shoulder. "What's your husband's name, Sigrid? Birger's a good lad, but a bit touched, you know? It helps if he knows who to ask for."

"Of course. Tell him to ask for Fili."

Maggie poked her head back through the doorway and Sigrid heard her address Birger loudly again. "No, the big one, there's a love. And then go to the stables and help Fili. _Fili_ , Birger. In the stables." Maggie closed the door and continued leading Sigrid down the hallway. "He was born that way, the little love. We knew it as soon as we saw him. It doesn't stop him helping, though, and his heart's as big as himself. I wouldn't change him for the world. Here's your room, dearie." Maggie opened a door and motioned for Sigrid to precede her into the room. It was light and airy, with a large iron bed with a patchworked bedspread, not new but spotlessly clean, a washstand against the wall, stocked with clean towels, and in the corner, a long, narrow wooden bathing tub with an elegantly curved raised back. Sigrid looked around in delight.

"It's lovely, Maggie. Thank you."

"Not at all, not at all," she said, clearly pleased and proud. "It's not often we get young couples such as yourselves, I thought you'd appreciate one of the nicer rooms." She smiled and gave a small laugh. "I'd better go and check on Birger. There's a dwarf prince by the name of Fili, as you've probably heard a hundred times, and Birger will likely be expecting to find him out there instead of your husband." She continued smiling at Sigrid for a moment, then her brow creased with a small frown, and finally her face slowly fell and her eyes widened as comprehension dawned.

Sigrid took hold of her hand, trying to pre-empt her reaction. "Maggie, everything's perfect just as it is. Please, don't change a thing from what you'd normally do. Not for us."

It was no use. Maggie's other hand went to her chest. "Look at me, I'm all flustered. Imagine, the two of you, in my inn! And never a word, you sly thing!" She shook Sigrid's hand up and down, then released it and hurried to the door. "Thank goodness it's beef this week. I'll do a roast. And plum crumble for dessert. And I'll be back with your water just as soon as it's ready. Have you eaten lunch? I'll bring you something." She backed out of the room, hanging on to the door and bent almost double at the waist, and as the door clicked shut, Sigrid smiled and shook her head, and flopped backwards onto the bed.

* * *

Fili poked his head around the door. Sigrid was relaxing in the tub, her eyes closed and her arms resting limply along the rim. He turned back to Birger in the hallway and lifted their saddlebags out of his arms.

"Thank you, Birger, you've been a great help. I'll take them from here."

Birger smiled, his slanting eyes on a level with Fili's, and then spoke rapidly, and his voice was thick and slightly slurred. "You're welcome, Fili. Will you be here for supper?" He held out his hand and Fili shifted the saddlebags to free up his own for a handshake.

"Yes I will, and my wife too. Will you sit with us, Birger? My wife would love to meet you."

Birger smiled again, as happy as a child. "Yes. See you at supper." He turned and hurried away down the hall with small, shuffling steps. Fili smiled after him for a moment, then stepped through the door.

He dumped the saddlebags in a corner and looked around. It was a pleasant room, well above the standard he would have been assigned in the days he travelled the roads with Kili. He looked at his wife reclining in the tub and smiled. She looked blissfully relaxed. He pulled up a chair beside her head and reached out to unbind her hair, combing his fingers through the strands to separate them out.

"Mmm. Is that you, love, or a burglar? Actually, I don't care. Just don't stop what you're doing," she said impishly.

He leaned down close to her ear. "A burglar. I'm here to steal a kiss," he said, and without opening her eyes, Sigrid turned her head to offer him her lips. He kissed her softly and touched her face.

"You look very comfortable."

"Oh, Fili, you have no idea. It's so good."

He got up and found the soft soap and a cup on the washstand, then sat back down by Sigrid's head, pulled up his sleeves, and scooped up cupfuls of water to pour onto her hair. He lathered up the soap and began massaging her scalp.

"I met the innkeep's son. He helped me wash down the ponies," he said as he worked, moving his fingers in small circles over her head. He smiled as she sighed with pleasure.

"Mmm. Birger. Maggie told me about him. She said he was a bit touched."

"He's like a child. He was so excited to help me, Sigrid, you should have seen him. I asked him to join us for supper." He rinsed off the suds and Sigrid at last opened her eyes.

"It will be nice to meet him. And you'll be happy to hear we won't be having rabbit stew for supper," she said as she stood up. Fili passed her a towel and she wrapped herself up and stepped out of the bath. "It's to be roast beef and plum crumble. Maggie was a bit overcome when she realised who you were, and she's going all out. Want me to do your hair?"

Fili grinned. "Yes please."

He stripped off and climbed into the tub while Sigrid dried and dressed in a skirt and blouse. She wet Fili's hair and started scrubbing away vigorously at the muddy spots.

"I wonder if Maggie has a scullery maid who'd wash our clothes?" she said absently, pouring a cup of water over Fili's face. "I think I'll take them down and see."

Fili wiped the water from his face and ran his hands over his hair to squeeze it out. "I'm done here. Why don't you take the clothes down and I'll join you in a minute. I'll introduce you to Birger." He climbed out of the tub, rubbing himself down with a towel, while Sigrid gathered up their clothes. His coin purse was lying on the bed, and he picked it up and threw it to Sigrid. "Don't forget this."

She caught it and put it in the pocket of her skirt, and gave him a smile from the doorway as she left the room.

He had just pulled on his breeches and shirt when he heard a scream coming from down the hallway. Instantly alert, he grabbed the nearest weapon to hand, one of his hunting knives, and ran out of the room. There were more screams, and muffled shouting, followed by a thumping noise, and he heard Sigrid shouting his name. He burst into the great room of the inn to see Birger being held by one of the men that had been huddled around the table, his arm twisted painfully up behind his back; Maggie the innkeep facing off grimly with a second man, and dodging the vicious swings of his cudgel; and by the wall, Sigrid, her eyes blazing and the bundle of dirty clothes strewn across the floor, holding a knife to the third man's throat.


	12. Chapter 12

Fili assessed the situation with one quick, penetrating sweep of the room. The three men weren't killers: they were petty cutpurses, who thought they had soft targets in Birger and the two women. They hadn't bargained on any of them fighting back.

His knife was behind his back, unseen; he stowed it, hoping to resolve the incident without bloodshed, and stepped forward coolly. "What's going on, lads?"

"Nothing that concerns you, dwarf," said the man holding Birger, thin, sallow-skinned, and black-haired, and apparently the leader of the group. "That lass is going to give us her purse, and then we'll be on our way. You mind your business, and no harm will come to you. You don't, and this mooncalf's got a broken shoulder, or worse." He twisted Birger's arm tighter, causing him to give a pitiful wail.

"Stop it! Don't hurt him!" Maggie shouted, looking desperately back and forth between the cudgel and her son.

"Tell your weasel-faced mate to let Birger go," Sigrid said through gritted teeth, pushing the knife closer to the throat of her target. As thin and dark-haired as the leader, the man under Sigrid's knife swallowed nervously.

"Maybe you should, Taft," he said. "Let's leave it."

Taft turned angrily on his accomplice. "Shut it, Walcott. If you hadn't let a lass take your knife, we'd be done and on our way by now. You, lass. Put the knife down, and give us your purse. Do it now, or it'll be your fault this lackwit gets hurt."

Fili cleared his throat. The three thugs looked his way. "Taft, is it? Let the lad go. Walk out the door, all of you, and don't come back. That's my final warning."

Taft laughed in surprise and derision. "Hark at him, giving us a warning! I told you it's no concern of yours, dwarf. Now push off."

Fili walked forwards, his fingers trailing over the table top next to him. "That's my friend you're holding. His mother there is my host. And that happens to be my wife you're trying to rob. I'd say that makes it my concern." With a sudden lunge, he swept up a wooden trencher from the table and sent it flying over Sigrid's head into Walcott's, knocking him sideways. He rushed the rangy, sandy-haired man holding the cudgel, dodging his clumsy strike and disarming him easily, and then in the one spiralling movement, he struck the man upward to the jaw with one end of the club, and turned and smashed Taft across the face with the other. Both men fell back against the wall, Taft letting go of Birger as his hands clutched at his nose. Maggie pulled Birger out of harm's way and held him as the three troublemakers collected their wits and scrambled for the door. Sigrid glared after them, her hands balled into fists, one of which was still clutching Walcott's knife.

At the doorway, Taft turned and pointed at Fili. "It's not over, dwarf."

"Yes it is," Fili said, and he drew his hunting knife from the back of his waistband and threw it straight at the thief's head. The last thing they saw was Taft's face, his nose bloody and his eyes wide with fear, before he slammed the door shut and the point of the knife lodged with a thud into the timber, precisely where his face had been.

Nervous energy and outrage radiated from every inch of Sigrid's body. "You weasels," she shouted at the door. "Don't come back." She flung Walcott's knife at the door, her action a pale imitation of Fili's, and it turned end over end through the air before hitting the door flat and sliding to the ground with a clatter. She turned to Fili.

"You have to show me how you do that."

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but smile. He looked from Sigrid to Maggie and Birger. "I need to make sure they don't touch the ponies. I'll be back as soon as I can. Will you be all right?"

Sigrid flexed her empty fists. "I'm fine. No, I'm not, I'm furious. If they do anything to our ponies, I'll tear their arms off. Go."

Birger was nestled against Maggie's chest, and her heart was in her eyes. "Thank you, Your Highness, sir. I'm fine, and I think Birger is too."

At the mention of the ponies, Birger had raised his head and looked around. "The ponies, Mam. They'll hurt the ponies. We have to stop them." He pushed away from Maggie, making a wailing sound and shifting from foot to foot, his concern for the animals' safety making him agitated.

Fili held out his hand. "Come on then, Birger. Let's go stop them," he said with a reassuring nod at Maggie, and the two of them headed for the door, Fili wrenching his hunting knife out of the timber as he went.

* * *

Maggie and Sigrid were seated at a bench with warm drinks in their hands when Fili and Birger returned.

"They're gone, and the ponies are fine," he said as he approached the table where they were sitting. "Birger and I checked on them, didn't we, Birger?" Fili patted the smiling lad on the back as he sat down with his mother, and slid into the bench beside Sigrid. "How are you, love?"

She turned with a wan smile and leaned her forehead on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. He felt her sigh and lean into him, and she rested like that for half a minute, then raised her head.

"I wasn't joking when I said I was angry, Fili. I was. I was _livid_. But I feel fine now. No harm done."

"What happened, exactly? I heard screams, and a thud…"

Sigrid took a deep breath. "Maggie wasn't in the kitchen, so I came out here looking for her. The one with the knife, Walcott, jumped up and grabbed my arm, and I screamed. Maggie and Birger ran in the front door, and Weasel Face grabbed Birger, and then I just saw red."

"She was marvellous, Your Majesty, simply wonderful," Maggie interjected. "I've never seen the like, not from such a slight lass. She shoved her bundle over the knife and pushed the brute fair into the wall with a tremendous smack. Next thing the knife's in her hands and she's got it at his throat."

"They were hurting Birger," Sigrid said with a shrug, almost apologetically. "It really made me angry. I didn't care about the coin, but they didn't need to bring him into it." She reached across the table to where Birger was sitting beside his mother and took hold of his hand. "I'm so sorry, Birger. Are you all right?"

He smiled at them with his innocent, child-like smile. "I'm all right now. The men are gone and the ponies are safe. Mam's all right. Are you all right?"

Sigrid smiled back at him and pressed his hand. "I'm all right, too, Birger."

Maggie pulled Birger closer and craned up to kiss his forehead, her eyes misting up. "Ah, you dear lad. You were so brave, son. Mam's proud of you." He hugged her waist and she blinked away her tears. "We've not had robbers around here for twenty years, and I hope not to see any for twenty more, but Your Excellency, sir, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, if you could show me how I might swing that cudgel, I'd appreciate it."

* * *

According to Maggie, there was no local militia that could be summoned to find the thieves and bring them to justice. Justice was, in fact, rather thin on the ground. If it was to come at all, it would come from Dain, a hundred miles to the east. Fili contemplated riding on ahead himself to inform Dain of the incident and request a squad be sent to capture the thieves, but he was loath to leave Maggie and Birger unprotected in case they decided to return. If he'd been on his own lands, or Bard's, he wouldn't have hesitated to arrest them himself, but dragging three bound prisoners with him all the way to the Iron Hills was not exactly his idea of a fun, relaxing camping trip with his wife. The best course of action, he decided, would be to send a message through with a traveller who was already headed to the Iron Hills, and wait for backup to arrive.

He kept an eye on Sigrid while these discussions were going on with Maggie. For all her bravado, Fili could see that she was shaken, although whether that was due to the thieves' actions or her startling response to them he couldn't tell. Once he had assured Maggie he would stay at the inn until the thieves were caught, and deflected her profuse thanks with promises of lessons in how to use the cudgel, the innkeep had left to prepare supper, and he took Sigrid by the hand and retreated to the privacy of their room.

Once through the door, he took her in his arms.

"How are you, in truth, beloved?" he said.

"I don't know," she said, her face full of worry. "I held a knife to that man's throat, Fili. I could have killed him."

"No, love, you wouldn't have. You couldn't. Even in a rage, you're still you."

She pulled back, and her eyes were enigmatic. "Is that what it's like for you? When you fight?"

"What do you mean? The rage?" he said. She nodded. He drew her to sit down beside him on the bed and looked at her, considering how much to tell her. He decided to tell her the unvarnished truth. "Well, sometimes it's like that, especially in the first charge. But you have to channel the rage and use it, or you end up with chaos. You have to focus your concentration and stay in the moment." Memories flooded his mind of a dozen different battles. "Sometimes it's just a hard slog, you don't feel anything much. Sometimes, if the fight's going on and on and you're completely focused, using all your skill to the utmost, you reach a point where you sort of lose yourself, and it's like the swords are swinging themselves. When that happens, you're unstoppable." She looked at him in silence for a long time, and finally her hand reached out to his cheek. "But that's in battle, love. Not a common tavern brawl."

He took her hand and slid his fingers through hers. She had asked, and he had answered. Looking at her face, he feared he'd said too much; at the same time, he hoped it would give her some perspective. His greatest fear was that something like this, some chance incident, would trigger a recurrence of her flashbacks, but he had to trust her. He had to show her that he believed she was able to handle it.

And after he had done that, he had to take the shadows from her eyes. He gave her a teasing look. "I would be happy if you didn't make a habit of it, though, love. One blade-wielding maniac in the family is enough."

She smiled despite herself. "Don't make me laugh. I'm being serious."

"So am I. Leave all your future brawling to me, love. The next lot you decide to take on might not be so inept. But having said that," and he leaned in, grinning, and nuzzled his lips into her neck, "seeing you waving that knife around, it _was_ kind of attractive. Arousing, you could say."

She laughed and pushed him away playfully. "Is that right? Well, you can enjoy the spectacle when you teach me. I'm serious, Fili, I want you to show me how to throw that knife."

He grinned. The shadows were gone. "I will. But not now. Now, I'm going to give you that backrub."

* * *

Fili's warm, strong hands had eased the tension in Sigrid's body, and although the insight he had given her as to what he felt in battle was sobering, his words had eased her concerns about her reaction. She felt worlds better when they came out to sit with Birger in the great room for supper. Maggie fussed over their meals, serving them the choicest cuts from what looked like a whole hind quarter of beef turning on a spit in the fireplace, and heaping Fili's plate so high Sigrid feared not even he could eat it all. He did, however, and managed two helpings of plum crumble for dessert besides, which served only to increase Maggie's admiration for him, a feat Sigrid had barely thought possible. While they were eating, a number of new arrivals came in, travellers from both directions who sought food and lodgings for the night. There was a small group of iron merchants headed toward Erebor, a craftsman father and son taking a commission to the Iron Hills, and a wandering tinker, reluctantly forced to seek paid accommodation due to the amount of water and mud still on the ground after the rain. Sigrid was sitting with Birger and Maggie, glancing occasionally at Fili as he chatted to the other travellers, when she heard her name spoken in a deep, resonant voice that she recognized.

"My dear Lady Sigrid, what an unexpected pleasure. I had feared I may have tarried too long with my sweetheart, and made myself late for your arrival at the Iron Hills. Yet, happily, here you are."

It was Owen.


	13. Chapter 13

"Owen! Well met indeed!" Sigrid said with a smile. She stood and offered her hand for a friendly shake. "How are Ingrid and Olle?"

Owen pressed her hand in both of his. "They are as well as can be, dear lady. I, on the other hand, find myself sunk in melancholy, as taking leave of them becomes more of a trial each time. The sight of you is the only pleasure I have had these three days." He lifted Sigrid's hand to his lips and kissed it, to Sigrid's amused resignation, while Maggie's eyes widened in surprise.

Fili's hand clapping him on the arm caused Owen to drop Sigrid's hand with a start, and she caught her husband's wink, his dimple smiling in his cheek. "Owen, my man! I wondered if you would overtake us. I'm glad you have – I've got a job for you." They shook hands cordially. "We need to get a message to Dain at the Iron Hills as a matter of urgency. Would you be willing to take it for us? The only other traveller headed that way is the woodturner there, in his cart, and he's not willing to push his horses."

Momentarily bewildered, Owen looked around the inn, as if an explanation were to be found seated at one of the tables. "What, now?"

"In the morning will be fine," Fili replied with a grin. "Will you help us?"

Owen drew himself up. "It would be a pleasure and a privilege to render whatever service I am capable of for your assistance, my lord, in appreciation of…"

Fili held up a hand to interrupt him. "Owen, I know there's nothing so simple that you couldn't talk it into confusion, but I'd like to get this squared away tonight, if possible. Can I take that for a yes?"

Owen laughed. "Yes, my lord, you can. Now, if I could prevail upon the good innkeep here to provide my humble self with some sustenance, you could fill me in while I fill my belly." He inclined his head to Maggie and held out his hand. "Owen, travelling minstrel, troubadour and poet, at your service."

Maggie held her own hand aloft with averted eyes and pursed lips, evidently hoping for Owen to send some of his gallantry her way. His eyes danced with mirth as he took up her hand and pressed it, then sobered slightly as he looked from her to Birger. "The quality of your establishment could only be rivalled by the kindness of your heart, my dear lady," he said. "And as to the excellence of your fare, if you could provide me a serving, I'm sure I would find it equally pleasing." He kissed the back of Maggie's hand, and she tittered.

"Oh, go on with you, you cheeky pup," she said, getting up from the table. "I shouldn't be encouraging you. If your lady were to hear you carrying on so, you mayn't wind up so smug. Seat yourself down and I'll bring you your food."

Maggie brought Owen an ample plate of supper and he tucked in while Fili apprised him of the situation. He nodded and ate in silence, his bright, penetrating eyes evaluating Maggie and Birger as Fili related their parts in the incident, and turning to Sigrid with admiration as Maggie described how she had disarmed the knife-wielding thief. When he had finished his meal, and he and Fili had clarified the details of the task he was to undertake, he sat back and sighed, and looked around the room, rubbing his stomach.

"Enough of serious subjects," he said. "I've a mind to sing some nonsense." He reached for his pack and drew out a golden harp, carefully wrapped in soft cloth inside a hard leather case. He moved to the centre of the great room and perched on a table to tune his harp strings, then cocked his head as he looked around at his audience, deciding what to play. Sigrid moved closer to Fili, and he straddled the bench behind her and drew her into his arms, as Owen began to sing.

He began with some traditional Dwarven drinking songs that had the merchants singing along merrily in deep, lusty voices, and Sigrid felt Fili humming behind her. She knew most of them from the Mountain, courtesy of Bofur mainly, but there were a couple of tunes she didn't recognise, and Fili whispered their regional provenances into her ear. These were followed by some folk songs from Dale and Esgaroth, and Sigrid felt she only wanted Bombur to be beating the rhythm and she would have got up and danced. Then the tenor of Owen's playing shifted, transforming itself gradually through a series of lilting musical pieces, his voice silent as he concentrated on the intricate fingerwork, until it was heard again in the sad refrain of a Dwarvish love song, the plaintive lament of a loyal, loving heart whose sweetheart was far away. Sigrid looked around, and she could see that she wasn't the only one to be furtively blinking away a sudden mistiness from her eyes. Owen looked up from his harp as the song trailed away, and smiled a wistful smile.

"That was beautiful. He's very good," Sigrid whispered over her shoulder. Fili said nothing, but squeezed her closer, and Sigrid guessed he was as moved as she was.

As they applauded, the merchants stood up from their benches and called Owen to join them at their table, clapping him on the back and digging into their purses to offer him some coin. Sigrid and Fili turned back to Maggie and Birger at their table.

"And he calls that nonsense," Maggie said, shaking her head. Birger's eyes, meanwhile, were fixed on the golden harp with an expression of wonder. Fili saw his look, and reached out a hand to him.

"Birger, would you like me to take you to talk to Owen and see his harp?" he said.

Birger nodded, and Fili took hold of his hand and led him away. Sigrid and Maggie watched them go.

"He's a good man, your husband the Prince," Maggie said. "A good dwarf, I mean. You're a lucky lass."

Sigrid smiled. "I know it." She lowered her voice. "And Maggie, please, you can call him Fili, not your Highness or the like. He's not a prince of your lands."

Maggie shook her head. "I'd rather follow the example of your friend the minstrel, there, if I may, and say 'my lord.' I know my place." She looked at Owen, and tilted her head to the side. "That one's no fool, for all that he likes to have people think he is."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," said Sigrid thoughtfully, looking towards Owen. He was talking to Birger, his harp on the table in front of them, and he was encouraging Birger to reach out his tentative hand and touch the strings.

"'A fool may hold his tongue and pass for a sage, but a sage may let his tongue run to foolishness for his own purposes,'" Maggie quoted.

"That's an interesting proverb," Sigrid said. "I don't think I've heard it before. Who said it?"

"My old Da," Maggie said with a grin. "You don't get to be an innkeep your whole life without seeing somewhat of people, and understanding them a bit. He could sit and talk with a man for an evening, and have him pegged by the time the fire died down. He'd have said that that Owen's uneasy about showing his true worth, but it's there all the same, make no mistake."

"I've seen a glimpse of it, with his behaviour towards his sweetheart and her son," Sigrid said. "And I think you have more than a little of your Da's wisdom yourself, Maggie." Maggie smiled and swatted a hand at her in abashed dismissal.

"Oh, go on with you," she said. "I'm not a patch on my old Da. Finest judge of character you'd ever meet, if you travelled the four corners of the land. Only one time in my life I never listened to him, and there's the result right there." She nodded at her son.

"Birger?" Sigrid said, surprised. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Course not. It's the old and familiar tale, the wrong man. Love makes fools of us all, Sigrid, and I was as foolish as the best of them, thinking that a handsome face was the same as a good heart. Da knew the blackguard had no honour, but I wouldn't listen. He disappeared the day I realised I was pregnant."

Sigrid reached out her hand and grasped Maggie's in sympathy, trying to disguise the sudden twinge of emotion she felt. "I'm so sorry, Maggie. What an awful situation to find yourself in."

Maggie snorted. "Hindsight's a wonderful thing. I can see now that I was better off without him, for all that I fancied myself in love at the time. And then Birger came, and oh, how I loved him, the poor wee mite! He was ours to love, Mam's and Da's and mine, and we knew straightaway he was going to need all the love we had. I've come to realise his father likely wouldn't have had it in him to love Birger like he needed."

Sigrid nodded thoughtfully, biting her lip. The bitterness she had felt at hearing of one who had been given the opportunity that was denied herself and Fili, and who had chosen to run away from it, was tempered by Maggie's sanguine attitude. There had been love in abundance in her family, despite the actions of Birger's father.

"Your parents sound like exceptional people. What happened to them?"

Maggie smiled with pleasure at Sigrid's assessment. "They were, both of them. Da died just two years ago, and Mam followed him not more than a six-month later. It was a terrible blow, but we've been carrying on, Birger and me. We were coping just fine, too, until these blasted thieves showed up."

"Don't let them worry you, Maggie," Sigrid said, and she reached out again to touch Maggie's hand with a reassuring pat. "Fili will sort that out."

Maggie gave a wry smile and glanced over at the table where Fili, Birger and Owen were talking and laughing with the other guests. Sigrid glanced that way as well, and Fili did a double take and smiled at her with a barely perceptible nod, all blue eyes and dimples, as he caught them looking.

"I believe he will, at that," Maggie said. "I can't imagine there being much he couldn't sort out, that one." Maggie turned her shrewd eyes back to Sigrid. "You've heard my story, such as it is. But what about you, Sigrid? How comes a lass to be wed to a dwarf prince?"

Sigrid raised her eyebrows and laughed. "That's a tale in itself, and we'd be here all night if I told it all. In short, I was in Laketown the night the dragon came, and Fili rescued my sister and I from orc blades and fire. He was tending his injured brother at the same time. Oh, Maggie, if you could have seen him! Today was nothing, not for him. Anyway, I couldn't get him out of my mind. I didn't want to. I suffered a lot after that night, with nightmares, panic, and the like, and my memory of Fili was the one thing that held me together. But I didn't speak to him again until a year later, when we were invited to a big New Year's celebration in Erebor. We were sitting next to each other, and he was…"

Maggie interrupted her with a palm in the air. "Wait, wait. Orcs and dragons I can believe. But how'd you contrive to be sitting on the honour table? You're not telling me you're royalty too?"

Sigrid looked sheepish. "My father's the Lord of Dale; King, now, I should say. To be honest, I'm not sure what that makes me, I was wed before he founded the kingdom." She smiled at the stunned look on Maggie's face, and then shrugged. "My friend Balin would know."

"Balin is a wise dwarf." Fili's voice murmured to her as his arms reached around Sigrid from behind, and she smiled and ran her hands along his forearms as his lips nuzzled into her neck. "I'm sorry, Maggie, but I'm stealing my wife away. It's getting late, and it's been rather an eventful day."

Maggie looked up at Fili with a mixture of admiration, wonder and an innocent but perceptive assessing sort of look on her face. "It has. I'd best get Birger off to sleep as well. But please let me say, I was fortunate the two of you came to my inn today, and no mistake. I rather suspect fortune follows you; or perhaps, you make of fortune what you will. In any case, you have my sincerest thanks for today, my lord."

Fili grinned at her. "You're welcome, Maggie."

* * *

The bed was soft, the sheets clean and crisp and smelling of lavender, and Sigrid snuggled gratefully into Fili's side.

"You've captivated Maggie, my love," she murmured impishly. "I wouldn't be surprised if she sold up and followed you back to Erebor."

"I'm just glad she's stopped calling me 'your Worshipfulness' or whatever it was," he said with a chuckle. "She's a kindhearted soul, though."

"Observant, too," she said. "She thinks Owen's far less flighty than he makes himself out to be. His playing was wonderful, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. And I agree with you and Maggie about his character. You saw how he was with Olle, and Ingrid. He had all the time in the world for Birger, too."

Sigrid was silent for a moment. Owen loved Olle, though he wasn't his own child, while Birger's father hadn't even bothered to stay to see his son born. And then Maggie's father, never holding a minute's grudge against his daughter after she'd ignored his warnings, and raising Birger with all the love in his heart, stood in stark contrast with Ingrid's in-laws, who had made their daughter-in-law and grandson's lives miserable. All these families, each with its own potential for happiness, if only the people in them would choose to love each other. Sigrid raised herself onto one elbow and looked down at her husband's face, gently smoothing back strands of his flaxen hair.

"Fili, what would we do, if we had a son like Birger?" she asked quietly.

His summery, twinkling eyes turned serious as they searched hers, wondering at her question. "We'd love him, of course. What else is there?"

She smiled at him. "What else is there?" she echoed, and she slid her hand into his hair and leaned down to press her lips to his.


	14. Chapter 14

Fili woke the next morning early, the recent pattern of rising with the dawn persisting despite its light being blocked by the drawn curtains of the room. Sigrid lay peacefully asleep in the bed beside him, and he looked at her and smiled. She wanted to learn how to throw that cutpurse's knife, and if that was what she wanted, he was going to teach her. She wasn't Tauriel, or even himself, to take pleasure in a blade for the sake of action, or accomplishment, or artistry, and she certainly hadn't developed a sudden need to shed blood. He didn't think it was because she felt unsafe, either – it had only taken moments for him to reach her and deal with the situation. She knew he could, and would, protect her. No, it was because she wanted to be able to do it herself. She was independent, and wanted to participate in things, to understand them and to try them herself, not sit by as a spectator as things unfolded around her. He smiled again as he recalled her eagerness to strip off and slide into the water, back at their campsite beside the pool, to try her hand at tickling trout. In her own quietly determined way, she gathered knowledge and experiences like honey, bit by bit, drop by drop, savouring the sweetness and leaving behind the stings. The only word he could think of to describe it was passion. She was passionate about things, about life, and he loved that about her.

She stirred under his gaze, and her eyes blinked drowsily as they opened.

"Good morning, beloved," he murmured.

She smiled and closed her eyes again. "Mmm, good morning. This bed's so comfortable, I don't want to get up."

He kissed her. "Then don't. I've got to write the message to Dain, but that's no reason you can't stay abed a while longer."

"Good idea." She rolled over, snuggled further into the quilt, and let out a contented sigh.

He smiled at her, and slid out of bed to dress. Before he left the room to search for parchment, pen and ink, he paused at the door and looked back at her, and he heard her deep, regular breathing turn into a tiny snore, and he smiled again.

* * *

Maggie and Birger were up and bustling about the kitchen, preparing breakfast for their guests, and Fili didn't wish to disturb them from their duties to ask them to find him some parchment. In the end it was Owen who was able to supply him with the writing materials, and he sat across from him at one of the tables in the great room and drafted a missive to Dain, explaining what had happened and requesting a squad be dispatched to the inn to bring the thieves to justice. Unbeknownst to Owen he also described the bearer of the message as a friend and gifted musician, and requested that Dain show him every courtesy. He folded the message and sealed it with wax, which he impressed with the emblem inscribed on the pommel of his boot knife. Dain would recognise it instantly.

Fili handed the finished document to Owen. "Ask for Nyrath, he's the Captain of the Guard at the Iron Hills," he said. "Show him the seal and tell him it's a message for Dain from me. You shouldn't have any trouble."

"Indeed," Owen replied. "I rather fancy there wouldn't be many doors that a passport from you wouldn't open, my lord. Nyrath, the Captain of the Guard. And then what?"

"And then, job done. Relax, sing, practise, do whatever it is you were going to do. I've asked Dain to accommodate you, so don't worry about that. Get on with earning that coin you need."

Owen was silent a moment, his bright eyes regarding Fili thoughtfully. "You are, truly, most generous, my lord. It's not many that would take such trouble, and for someone they barely know."

"No-one who's met Ingrid and Olle could fail of wanting to help them," Fili said. "And I've seen enough of your character to know you're worth helping too, Owen, though you try to hide it."

Owen pursed his lips. "Yes, it's quite exasperating to be seen through so thoroughly by all of you, I assure you." He looked up as Maggie brought a laden tray of food to their table, sausages, bacon and eggs, porridge, fresh bread with honey, and a steaming pot of tea, the mouth-watering aromas filling the room. He grinned at her. "You know, my lord Fili, I do believe Mistress Maggie here is the worst. She had me sitting up until all hours last night, prying into my deepest, darkest secrets and uncovering all my subterfuges."

Maggie swatted at the back of Owen's head, and he flinched, grinning, and held up his hands in laughing protest. "You're not fooling anyone, you cheeky pup. Eat your breakfast." She turned to Fili. "Will the lady Sigrid be joining us?"

"Sigrid's having a sleep-in this morning, if that's all right," he said. "I think our travels have been tiring her out more than she's willing to admit."

"Of course it's all right. You're guests, and honoured ones. You do as you please. I'll make her breakfast fresh when she gets up, and draw another bath if she wants one."

"Thank you, Maggie, that's very kind. Now, I've not forgotten that you asked me for lessons in using that cudgel. When would be a good time?"

Maggie drew in a breath, and sat down next to Owen on the bench. "Yes. Of course. To tell you the truth, Sir, I think I may have been a bit rash, perhaps it's better if I don't…"

"Maggie, it's all right," said Fili. "You can do it. I'll show you what to do."

Owen gave Maggie a nudge with his elbow. "I could stay and help you instead, if you'd prefer," he said with a smirk, winking at Fili.

"And what would you teach me to do, you cheeky pup? Spout verse at a robber until he cowers in submission? No, thank you all the same." Maggie turned back to Fili, spurred into action by Owen's words, but shaking her head with a smile at the same time, knowing full well she was being manoeuvred. "The hour before lunch would suit, if it pleases you, my lord."

* * *

Owen saddled and prepared to depart straight after finishing his breakfast, and he assured them he would be in the Iron Hills in two days instead of the usual three. Fili's brows drew together as he patted the neck of Owen's tall bay gelding.

"Sixty miles a day, with you and your gear? There's no need to overwork your horse, Owen. It's not that important."

"He's up for it, aren't you boy?" He leaned down and patted the horse's neck himself. "It will take the squad three days to return, and five days' head start is quite enough to have given these brigands." He straightened up and nodded at Fili. "Please, pass on my sincere regret at not being able to take leave of your good lady wife myself. My heart aches at the thought of parting without seeing her. May her golden slumbers be as refreshing as they are peaceful, and…"

"Owen, shut it," said Maggie cheerfully as she came out the back door. He waggled his eyebrows at her with a smile, and winked at Fili. She walked up to his horse's head and looked up at him, and her face turned serious. "Safe journey, and mind you remember what we talked about last night."

Owen bowed from his saddle, his mischievous eyes suddenly somber. "Indeed. I'm not in danger of forgetting, my dear Maggie."

"Good," she replied. "Go on, then, off with you now."

He nodded, and with a last grin turned his horse and trotted off down the road, waving a hand back at them without looking around, and Fili was left wondering what on earth the two of them had been talking about.

* * *

The hour before lunch found Fili, Maggie and Sigrid, now well rested and well fed, practising their defensive weaponry skills out behind the inn on the open grass by the orchard. Fili had set up two old grey wooden planks about ten feet apart as targets for Sigrid, and shown her how to take a stance and hold the small knife by its blade, feeling the balance of its weight and sending it spinning with a half-turn towards the plank. She was standing beside one plank and throwing the knife at the other, then walking between them to pick up the knife when it fell to the ground, or hurrying with an excited skip to wrench it out of the timber when it stuck, and then turning to repeat the process back the other way. She applied herself with her usual determination, and Fili felt that he'd never tire of watching her. Maggie, on the other hand, was apprehensive, despite Owen's earlier goading, and took some convincing before she would put her full weight behind the cudgel and send it swinging towards the sack of grain Fili had set up as her target. He had also offered to Maggie to provide Birger with lessons in swinging the cudgel, but Maggie had refused, unwilling to put him at any risk of injury, and Birger was in the stables, contentedly brushing down and fussing over the ponies, completely disinterested in the goings-on by the orchard.

"How are we doing, O Teacher of All Things Weaponly?" Sigrid asked as she paused between throws about forty minutes into their lesson, bouncing the handle of the knife up and down in her hand.

"'Weaponly'? That's not even a word," Fili said with a grin. "But you're doing great. You know you are. You've stuck the last ten in a row, don't think I haven't been counting." She executed a dainty curtsey in acknowledgement of his praise and grinned back at him, and their eyes held for a moment, each enjoying seeing the other taking such pleasure in what they were doing. Eventually they laughed and broke their gaze and looked over at Maggie, whacking away with her club on her sack of grain. She stopped when she saw them looking, and stood and leaned on the cudgel with one hand, wiping her forehead with the other.

"And here I thought churning butter was hard work," she said. "I don't know about you, but I've had quite enough for one day. Let's call it lunch time."

* * *

The next few days fell into the comfortable pattern of a late breakfast and weapons practise in the mornings, with a short ride through the surrounding countryside to maintain their and the ponies' riding condition during the afternoons. As they rode amongst the low bushes and tufts of grass for a few miles in various directions around the inn, Fili kept his eyes open for any indication that the thieves were still in the area. Discarded food scraps, and a blackened patch of ground where a fire had been extinguished, found one afternoon three miles to the north, were signs that could have been made by anyone, but Fili felt convinced that the thieves viewed Maggie and Birger as soft targets, and were biding their time in the wilderness, watching and waiting for him to move on before coming back to take their revenge on the inn.

The evenings were always interesting, with travellers arriving from both directions to stop for the night, and eager to share their stories over Maggie's excellent ale. None of them had seen any trace of the three thieves, though a blacksmith from the Iron Hills proudly related how he had heard tell of trouble on the road before he had left, and so had brought his dog with him as extra protection. From the way the fluffy, friendly animal was wagging his tail and licking a delighted Birger's screwed-up face, Fili had some well-founded doubts as to his effectiveness as a guard dog, and suspected affection rather than protection had prompted his inclusion in the blacksmith's party, but he kept his suspicions and his amusement over the matter to himself.

He and Sigrid were riding the road about three miles east of the inn, on the fourth afternoon after Owen had set off, when they saw a dust cloud in the air ahead of them, an indication that a large group was travelling their way. They rode to meet it in hope that it would be the assistance they'd been waiting for, yet doubting whether it was possible for anyone from the Iron Hills to have arrived so soon. As the dust cloud moved closer, it resolved into a troop of eight dwarven guards, hot under the sunny sky in leather armour, and mounted on sturdy ponies moving at a steady trot in their direction.

"Hail friends," Fili said as he and Sigrid pulled up in front of them. He frowned, and squinted at their brown-bearded leader. "Nib? Is that you under all that dirt?"

"Fili! Damn but it's good to see you!" the captain said cheerfully. He and Fili jumped down from their mounts and embraced heartily, clouds of dust flying as Fili thumped his friend on the back, then Fili turned to Sigrid.

"Sigrid, this is Nib, who I've known since we were lads together, fighting with sticks in the yard and stealing food from the kitchens. Nib, this is my wife Sigrid."

Nib looked up at Sigrid, still mounted on Daisy, and pulled an imaginary forelock in greeting. "At your service, my lady." He turned back to Fili. "But where's your brother, Fili? There's no sport to be had without the both of you."

"Back home in Erebor," he replied. "We'll have to do without him, you and I both. But you, Nib, squad captain now? I'm glad to see it. Did you receive my message? We were expecting a squad, but surely you can't have come from the Iron Hills in a day and a half?"

Nib grinned sheepishly, though a note of pride crept into his voice. "Vice-captain of the guard, actually. You've been away a long time. No, we were already on the road. We've been chasing this gang around in circles for the last two weeks, and we ran into your messenger the day before yesterday, and headed straight down. We'll run them to ground this time, won't we lads?"

Behind him on their ponies, the dwarves of the troop gave a rumble of assent, shifting in their saddles and fingering their weapons.

"Well, let's go," Fili said. "Food and ale on me at the Pick and Shovel, lads, not more than three miles ahead, and then, the hunt is on."


	15. Chapter 15

The sight of so many ponies arriving at once brought Birger hurrying out from the front door of the inn, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other, a huge grin on his face. He followed them around to the stables and stood mesmerised as the troop watered the ponies and eased their girth straps. Sigrid noticed the dwarves didn't unsaddle their ponies completely, and realised it meant they were planning on taking only a quick refreshment before heading straight out again to scout the area. She glanced at Fili; he had done the same with Mindy, obviously intending to accompany them. She turned back to Daisy and loosened her girth strap, leaving the saddle in place, and smiled at Birger as he appeared beside her with a bucket of water from the pump. Sigrid patted Daisy's neck as the pony nosed into the bucket and drank noisily.

"What are you doing?" Sigrid gave a start as Fili's low voice sounded in her ear.

"Coming with you, of course," she said over her shoulder, avoiding his gaze. She knew he wouldn't be happy about it, and rather wanted to spare herself any reproving looks.

He took her hand and drew her around to face him. "I don't think that's a good idea, love."

There was no reproof in his eyes, only concern. Underneath it, however, Sigrid recognised steel, and she knew he would not be backing down. She sighed. "Why not?"

"Sigrid, you've had four days training at throwing a knife," he said. "That doesn't make you ready to go out on reconnaissance with an armed squad. If we were lucky enough to find the gang, they'd target you, no question. It's too dangerous."

Her conscience pricked her, but she ignored it. He was being stubborn. Well, she could be just as stubborn as he if she chose. "It would be nine to three. Ten, I mean. I'll be perfectly safe. And I've got Walcott's knife, and you took their cudgel…"

"We don't know what other weapons they may have," he continued. "I don't want to find out they have bows by you taking an arrow in your side." Daisy lifted her head with a snort, and he rubbed her broad face. "And besides, Daisy here's not battle-trained. What if there's a scrap, and she bolts, or throws you? Would you put her in danger too? Please, love, I'm asking you, stay here where I know you're safe."

Sigrid pursed her lips and glared at Fili in resentment, and then turned abruptly, fighting back tears as she shrugged off his hand and ran for the inn. She stormed through the great room and down the hall to their room, and threw herself on the bed, and sobbed. It was so unfair, she thought. They were all against her, even Daisy. Why shouldn't she go? There was no reason not to, none at all.

It didn't take long for her sobs to subside, and she lay on the bed, feeling drained, and found her anger fading away as quickly as it had started. Once released from the grip of her emotions, she realised that she had overreacted. Fili was right. Of course he was. He would never have agreed to her going with the squad, and with good reason. Letting an unarmed, untrained rider on an inexperienced pony join them while they were trying to apprehend criminals, who could be armed with who knew what weapons, was nothing but folly.

She felt guilty and foolish. It was too late to go and apologise now, they'd already have left. As soon as Fili returned, she'd go to him, and she'd tell him she was sorry.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door. Sigrid sat up, her face lighting up. Fili hadn't left. He'd come to find her, to make sure she was all right. She heard him knock softly again, and hurried to open the door.

It wasn't Fili. It was Birger.

"Oh, Birger, hello," she said, fixing a smile on her face and trying to keep her disappointment out of her voice. "Have the dwarves left?"

"Hello Sigrid," Birger said in his rushed, slurring tones. "The dwarves are leaving, but Fili said it's too dangerous. I heard him. You mustn't go with them, Sigrid."

"I'm not going with them, Birger," she said, reaching out to rub his arm. "I'm staying here."

"You must stay safe," he continued, as if he hadn't heard her. He started to get anxious, moving backwards and forwards from foot to foot, and she took hold of his hands to try to calm him. "Fili said it's dangerous. You and Whinny must stay safe." Birger's rapid speech was difficult to comprehend at times, his words running together indistinctly as they tumbled out of his mouth, but Sigrid guessed that 'Whinny' must be the nickname he'd given to Daisy as he'd bonded with her in the stables. She briefly wondered at the names he might have given their cows and chickens, and the thought made her smile.

"We are safe, Birger," she reiterated, giving his hands a squeeze. "We're staying behind, here with you."

A broad grin threatened to split his face in two as her words registered, and he breathed in and sighed in relief. Sigrid lifted her hands as he put his arms around her waist and gave her a gentle hug, bending over and resting his cheek against her.

"All right," he said. Sigrid looked down in amusement for a moment, then gently unwound his arms from around her.

"Yes, I'm all right, Birger, and thank you for showing me how much you care," she said softly. He stood back up and looked at her with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Sigrid, I have to feed the chickens and collect the eggs," he said. "Come with me! Come! Come and see the animals."

"Of course I will, Birger," she replied, and she took his hand and let him lead her outside.

* * *

Birger kept Sigrid outside for over an hour, first sitting her down on a nesting box in the large chicken coop beyond the stables and filling her lap with fluffy, chirping hatchlings as he collected eggs, before giving her a comprehensive tour of the rest of the outbuildings and fields, to introduce her to the other animals that he tended. A litter of eight piglets that the sow had farrowed in the springtime were now, three months on, gaining length and weight and losing their piglety charm, none of which stopped Birger attempting to catch one to place into Sigrid's arms as they visited the pigsty. Three times Birger picked out a squealing, wriggling target and chased it around the pen, finally giving up in fits of laughter as they proved unable to be caught, to Sigrid's secret relief. Two dairy cows and their calves and a small flock of sheep ambled towards them hopefully as they wound their way out to the fenceline of the stock paddock, the animals evidently used to frequent tidbits and treats from Birger's hand, and he pulled up some handfuls of green grass from around the fence posts to offer them. Looking around, Sigrid was struck with the size of the farm operations, only now realising the amount of work that it took Maggie and Birger to feed themselves and their constant stream of guests, and made a mental note to ask Maggie when she saw her, how the two of them coped with such a workload.

Her opportunity came as they made their way back inside. Birger led Sigrid through to the kitchen, where Maggie was preparing vegetables and throwing them into an enormous stew pot.

"Ah, there you are Birger," she said as they entered. "Come and help me with supper, there's a love. I trust he hasn't been boring you, Sigrid?"

"Not at all, Maggie. We've had a lovely afternoon, haven't we, Birger?"

Birger beamed and nodded at Sigrid. "Yes. Sigrid and Whinny stayed here to be safe with me."

Sigrid smiled after him as he disappeared with his basket of eggs down the steps to the cellar in the corner of the room. "He's named my pony 'Whinny,' the sweetheart." She turned back to Maggie. "Your farm operations are huge, Maggie. However do the two of you cope?"

Maggie didn't answer, and Sigrid was surprised to see that she had stopped and turned towards her, her knife suspended in mid-air, and was looking at her curiously.

"He's not saying 'Whinny,' Sigrid. It's 'gwinig.' It's the Gondor accent, to drop the 'g's.' My mam's family came from down that way."

"Ah, 'gwinig,' is it?" Sigrid said with a laugh. "And here I thought he was talking about my pony. What does it mean?"

Maggie looked intently into Sigrid's face. "It means Little One. Birger's talking about your baby."

* * *

"We found it yesterday. It's them. I know it is." Fili looked down at Nib, who had dismounted and was fingering the cold, charred remains of the campfire he and Sigrid had come across during their ride the previous afternoon. Nib looked over the food scraps nearby, some bones chewed clean of meat, stone fruit pits, and a cheese rind, now covered with ants, and looked up at Fili and nodded.

"You're right. They were here the night before last. Clearly they're none too smart, to linger this long in the area, let alone to be lighting fires. Which is good for us." Nib rose and brushed the dirt from his knees, and remounted his pony, shifting in the saddle until he was comfortable and gathering up the reins. "I say we split up, three groups of three, and comb northward from here, no more than five miles, and if anyone sees them, sound your horn three times and engage. If there's no sign of them, we'll head back to the inn, but at least we'll have covered this area." He looked at Fili, willing to defer to his judgement. "What do you think?"

Fili grinned. "It's your call, Nib. I'm just along for the ride." Nib grinned back at him, and then turned and pointed to his troop. "You three, that way; you three, that way; Fili and Duf and I, this way. No more than five miles, mind."

The troop split up and trotted out in a fan formation, and Fili was impressed by both the squad's professionalism and the relative quietness with which their ponies moved. Nib had both the dwarves and their mounts well trained.

They'd gone no more than three miles, alert for any clues they could pick up as to the thieves' movements, when Fili heard a horn sounding to their left, three short, high-pitched blasts.

"That's Onar. They've found them," Nib called. "Let's go, lads, or we'll miss all the fun." He turned his pony eastward, and urged it on. Despite the day's march, the sturdy animals leapt forward eagerly, catching the excitement from their riders and dodging swiftly through the bushes at a canter, taking smaller clumps of grass at the jump. Ahead they soon saw the light and smoke of a campfire, and heard shouting, and the thudding strikes of a blunt weapon on a shield. Fili pulled Mindy up as he burst clear of the bushes, and saw the dark, weasel-faced Taft and his accomplice Walcott pinned to the ground by two of Nib's troops, their hands behind their backs and their wrists already being roped up. The third man, the tall, sandy-haired one whose name Fili didn't know, was wielding a large stick for a club, and had been fending off his dwarven adversary quite successfully, until he had looked up as Fili and the two other dwarves had arrived. As his eyes fell on Fili they widened in alarm and he blanched, threw down his club, and held his hands in the air.

* * *

"Too easy, in the end," Nib said with a laugh as they rode slowly back to the Pick and Shovel, the thieves tied by the wrists and being led on foot by three of his troops. "I'm sorry you and I didn't get a crack at them, Fili. It would have been like old times. Never mind. We'll keep them under guard at the inn tonight, and take them back to the Hills tomorrow."

"You have my thanks, Nib, you and your squad. I know Maggie and Birger at the inn will sleep better tonight, knowing the gang's been caught. Not to mention Sigrid, as well." Fili pursed his lips, a crease of concern drawing his brows together. He'd left Sigrid resentful and angry with him, when he'd asked her to stay behind from the hunt, and he'd had to leave without being able to talk to her about it. He was sorry that she had been upset, but he believed his stance had been correct, and he didn't regret his actions. Despite the fact that he hadn't actually been in a fight, it still wouldn't have been safe for her to come with them on Daisy, untrained and inexperienced as the two of them were, but regardless of who was wrong or right, the resentment he'd seen in her eyes grieved him, and he wanted to make it up with her. As soon as he returned he'd find her, and talk to her, even if in the end they had to agree to disagree, and he'd try to put things to rights.

* * *

Sigrid gave a little shake of her head in confusion, thinking she must have misunderstood Maggie. "I beg your pardon, Maggie, what did you say?"

"'Gwinig.' It means Little One. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be indelicate, but I've never known Birger to be wrong about this. Have you not realised it yourself yet?"

Again she shook her head, trying to comprehend what Maggie was saying. Her head was swimming, and she couldn't think. Words wouldn't form into sentences. "I… I don't…"

Maggie held a hand out to Sigrid as she groped for a kitchen stool for her to sit on. "I'm so sorry, dearie, I didn't mean to give you a shock. I thought you must have known. Here, sit. You're as white as a sheet. Let me get you a drink of water."

Birger emerged from the cellar steps with the empty basket as Maggie fetched Sigrid a glass of water, and he beamed at her. She thought back to the baby animals he'd been so keen to show her that afternoon, and how he had hugged her around the waist and laid his cheek against her. She closed her eyes with another shake of her head, and rubbed her forehead with her hand. Maggie smiled sympathetically.

"I remember my own time like it was yesterday. Have you noticed a change in your appetite, or your sense of smell? I couldn't stand the smell of eggs cooking, bit of a problem when you have to serve them up to guests every morning. Mood swings? Tiredness? I'd sleep for hours and still be tired. And the morning sickness! It was more like all day sickness. It didn't clear up for me until about halfway through. But everyone's different. You haven't noticed anything?"

Increased appetite. Sensitivity to smells. Mood swings. Tiredness.

Her lower back ached. How many times had she heard Britte complaining of her aching back, even early in her pregnancies? Her breasts were swollen and tender, as they were every month when her courses were due, but again, that was another symptom Britte had confided in her about.

Sigrid shook her head slowly again in disbelief, and she saw Maggie frown. Her courses. She tried to count on her fingers. "Maggie, please," she whispered. "What day is it today?"

Maggie's frown vanished, and she smiled knowingly. "The fifteenth of July."

Sigrid looked up, and slowly, hesitantly, her eyes widened.

"Seven days. I'm seven days late. I lost track… we were camping…" She wanted to believe it. But how, after so many years, after so many disappointments, how could she? But it all fit. It had to be true. A smile began to dawn on her face.

Maggie grinned. "I knew it. Congratulations, dearie. I'm so happy for you." She gave Sigrid a hug. "I don't know how Birger knows, but he knows, all right. Animals, people… He gets it from my mother. She knew I was pregnant before I'd missed the first month of my courses. She couldn't tell me how she knew, though. She said she could just tell. And Birger, he just looks at me blankly when I ask him about it."

Hearing his mother and Sigrid talking about him, Birger placed the basket down on the table and shuffled around to place his arms around Sigrid, the touch of his soft arms as light as a feather. She pulled him to her tightly and he laughed, then she took hold of his shoulders and held him at arms' length as she looked from him to Maggie.

"You have no idea, no idea, how much this means to us… how long we've waited… thank you," she faltered.

"Don't thank us, dearie, we haven't done anything," Maggie said with a laugh. "Go thank your husband. Can't you hear that clatter they're making in the great room? They're back."

Sigrid cocked her head, suddenly alert, like a startled deer.

"Fili," she whispered, and flew out of the room.

* * *

Fili looked up as Sigrid burst through the swinging door into the great room. Nib and his troops had the management of the thieves well in hand, and Fili felt no hesitation in leaving them to do their job. He was glad of it, because all he had wanted to do was to find Sigrid, and talk to her, and make up their quarrel. She was stopped in the doorway, casting a nervous glance around the room at the other dwarves. As her eyes came back to meet his, he could see that she was no longer angry, and he smiled and stepped forward.

"Sigrid, love, I'm sorry I had to go without seeing if you were all right. Let me explain."

She didn't answer straight away. She took hold of both his hands, and looked at him, and her eyes, always beautiful, were positively glowing, and Fili felt himself fall into their depths.

"Fili, please, forget about that. I was an idiot, and I'm sorry. But there's a reason for it, and I need you to come with me back to our room. There's something I have to tell you."


	16. Chapter 16

Sigrid led Fili by the hand down the corridor to their room. She opened the door and pulled him inside, then, letting go of his hand, she turned and closed the door and leaned back on it.

"It's all right, love," he began as he turned back towards her from the middle of the room. "I understand, I know you like to be involved with things. You didn't want to be left behind. It's just that, with so little training…"

Sigrid stepped towards him, holding up her hands. "Fili, please, stop. It's not that."

"What is it, then, love?" He frowned, and took hold of her hands, threading his fingers through hers. "What's wrong?"

She gazed at him, her grey eyes tender and the barest hint of a smile curving her lips, and brought their clasped hands to her heart. "Nothing's wrong. Oh, my love. My Fili. Everything's very, very right."

For the second time, he found himself lost in her beautiful, expressive eyes. No-one, in all his eighty-eight years, had ever looked at him the way she was looking at him right now. Her eyes were full of such love, and happiness, and wonder, and… what else was it? Nervousness? Surprise? Worry?

He didn't understand. Then, all of a sudden, something clicked into place. There was only one thing it could mean, and the knowledge reached down deep into his gut and gripped him with its astounding, terrifying, exhilarating certainty.

"No," he whispered.

Sigrid grinned. "Yes."

For a few moments he stood and stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. Then slowly, his face lit up with a look of indescribable joy, and he scooped her up in his arms to spin her around, and their laughter and wordless cries of delight filled the air, and then he couldn't see her face for the joyous tears that welled in his eyes. As his outburst subsided, he let her slide down in his arms and took her face in his hands, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs even as she reached up to do the same.

"Oh, Sigrid. Truly? How? When?" he whispered.

Sigrid laughed. "You know how. The usual way."

Fili grinned, shaking his head. "No, you know what I mean, love. How do you know? How did you find out?"

She drew him to the bed to sit down side by side. "It's going to sound strange, but Birger told me. Maggie says he has a gift. I didn't believe it at first, but thinking back, I've been so tired and hungry, and I've been having mood swings, like today, and aches and pains. It all makes sense." She placed a hand on her stomach. "And my courses are a week late. It has to be true, my love. There's no other explanation."

"Oh, Sigrid mine." Fili pulled her back into his embrace, and let it sink in. To him, she was everything, she was love and life itself, and now there was life inside her, a life they had created together, and one day soon they would hold that little life in their arms, and see its face. The thought was overwhelming.

"You never gave up hope, the whole time," she whispered into his ear. "I'm so sorry that I did, my love. I shouldn't have."

"Sigrid, no, don't blame yourself," he said softly, pulling back to look at her face. "You were just trying to cope with the stress. And if we're talking blame, look at me. I've dragged you out here, to the middle of nowhere, when you should be safe at home. Do you want me to take you back?"

"No, I want to go on to the Iron Hills," she said. "I want to find out what to expect. Don't you? There has to be some information somewhere. We can't have been the first couple to be in this situation."

"All right then, we'll go on. How will you go, riding, though, love? The Hills are still a long way off. Is it safe?" He stopped and thought for a moment. How would it feel, after all these years, after everything they'd been through, to have got this far only for Sigrid to lose the baby? A cold shiver crept up his spine.

As she always did, Sigrid understood what he was thinking. She grasped his hand tightly and leaned in to look earnestly into his face. "Fili. I'll be fine. The baby will be fine. It's not like I've never ridden before. My body's used to the exercise. And besides, we don't ride far each day, and Daisy is as quiet as a mouse. We've made it this far, haven't we?"

Apprehensive as he was, he was prepared to be guided by her judgement. "All right," he said again, looking down at the hand that was holding so tightly to his. "Promise me one thing, though."

"Anything, my love."

He looked up. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll tell me if you're tired and you want to stop, or if you need to eat, anything at all." He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I know what you're like, Sigrid mine. You'll try to keep going, never thinking of yourself, and end up exhausted. You can't afford to do that now. Promise me you'll take care of yourself, and let me take care of you." He held her eye. "And definitely, no more tavern brawls."

"That's not one thing," she said with an impish grin. "But I will, Fili. All of it, I promise. My brawling days, definitely over."

"Thank you," he said with a sigh, and he gazed at her, and threaded his hand into her hair. "Ah, beloved. Is it real? Truly? Tell me again."

"I do truly believe it is, my love. It's our turn, at last, at long last," she whispered, and she leaned in to capture his lips with her own. He tasted the sweet softness she offered, then she took his hand, still tight within her grasp, and pressed it to her stomach. "Our child, Fili. Yours and mine." He rested his forehead gently against hers, and they sat together silently, breathing in the moment for which they had waited so long, and for which they had suffered so much disappointment and doubt. The world outside stopped and ceased to matter, paling into insignificance compared to what was here before him, within the reach of his arms.

Their moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. Fili sighed, and kissed Sigrid's lips once again. "Don't move," he said softly, and rose to answer the door. It was the only person he could have forgiven for the interruption. Birger looked anxiously through the doorway at Sigrid, and then back at Fili.

"It's suppertime, Fili. I don't want you to miss supper," he said in his rapid, slurred tones. He was surprised when Fili opened his arms and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Birger, my friend, I don't know by what art or magic you were able to tell that Sigrid is with child, but you'll have my gratitude forever," he said quietly, releasing Birger and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Mam says you can have your supper in here if you want, in your room," Birger continued, his wide slanting eyes betraying his bewilderment.

Sigrid came up behind him and reached out to Birger. "He doesn't understand, Fili. Birger, it's all right, I'm very hungry and we'd love to come out and have supper." She turned to Fili. "Rule number one, feed the pregnant woman when she's hungry. Come on, my love. Let's go out. We've got all night to celebrate."

Fili agreed reluctantly. "Let's not tell Nib and the troop, though. As much as I want to shout it from the rooftop, they'll arrive at the Hills long before we will, and I don't want this to end up as common gossip before we even get there."

"Good thinking," Sigrid said. "I don't know about you, but the insufferable Marni is the last person on earth I want gossiping about us."

They followed Birger out into the great room, where Maggie was dishing out steaming bowlfuls of beef stew, fragrant with rosemary and red wine, with fresh crusty bread rolls and butter, and Sigrid fairly clapped her hands in anticipation. When Maggie saw Fili, she put down her ladle and held out her hand to him, and when he took it she pressed it with one firm shake, her eyes communicating both her congratulations and her assurance of secrecy. He grinned at her and nodded in gratitude. As they picked up their bowls and looked around to find a place to sit, Nib called to them from the other side of the room.

"Hi! Fili! Come and join us!" He smacked one of his colleagues on the shoulder to encourage him to make room on the bench. "Shove along there, Onar! There's room here, Fili, Sigrid. You're more than welcome."

Fili shook his head. "Thanks Nib. I appreciate it, but we're going to sit out the back for a bit of quiet if that's all right. I'll take you up on a meal and a drink when we catch up with you at the Hills, though."

Nib looked at Sigrid and grinned. "Of course. Come and see us when you get there, Sigrid, when we've scrubbed up and there's time to relax and chat, and we'll give you a proper welcome."

"I'd love that, Nib. See you there," Sigrid said. Fili led the way out behind the inn, where a table and benches had been placed in a paved courtyard overlooking the leafy orchard, for guests to enjoy the outdoors in fine weather.

"It's beautiful," Sigrid murmured, looking around. "Imagine the blossoms in the springtime, Fili." The summer evening they looked out upon was mild and still, the dim glow of candlelight through the translucent amber windows behind them enough to see by, but not so bright as to obscure the stars starting to appear in the fading sunset, and the loud conversation of the dwarves in the great room was attenuated to a low murmur through the walls. They sat side by side in the dusk and ate their fill of Maggie's delicious food.

"Will you write to Kili?" Sigrid asked softly, mopping up the last of her stew with a morsel of bread.

"No," Fili replied. "I'd like to wait until we get back home, to tell him in person. I want to see his face."

"I'll wait too, then." She sighed. "Imagine how happy they'll be, my love. Da, and your mother, and Thorin…"

He pushed their empty bowls aside and drew her close.

"They'll be over the moon," he said. "If we were there now, beloved, do you know where we'd be?"

She smiled at him indulgently. "Well, if I had my way, we'd be up on the parapet."

"Absolutely," he grinned. "I'd take you up there, and I'd sit on the edge where we can see as far as forever, and I'd hold out my hand to you to come and join me." He slid out from the bench they were sitting on and walked to the other side of the table, climbing lightly up onto the edge. He turned back towards her with a grin and held out his hand.

She looked up at him, her eyes soft and full of love, recognising the scenario he was trying to recreate. She rose, and took his hand across the table, and he held his arm wide so as not to lose their contact as she walked around and joined him. He drew her close once again.

"We'd sit on the edge like this, and watch the sun go down," he continued, "and listen out for the last bell from the Dale belltower, and watch the stars come out one by one in the night sky, with the sound of the falls far below."

"Mmm. Perfect," she murmured, leaning into his body. "And then what?"

He lifted a hand to brush her hair away from her neck. "And then I'd kiss you," he said softly, "because it's impossible not to want to kiss you on the parapet." He leaned in to press his lips to the soft, smooth skin of her throat, and he felt her body melt against his, and he heard her soft intake of breath, and he tasted her skin and inhaled the bewitching floral scent of her, delicate and sweet. He slid his hand up her back and into her hair as he kissed his way up to her lips, and her hands grasped the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

She broke their kiss to murmur against his lips. "Fili. Take me to bed. It's time to celebrate."

* * *

They snuck back inside through the door at the end of their hallway, where guests accessed the outhouse, thankful to avoid seeing anyone as they made their way back to their room. As soon as they were through the door, Fili swept Sigrid up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently and crawling onto the bed to stretch out beside her. From their years of research, as well as the various discreet conversations he'd had with older and wiser friends and family, he knew it was safe, and that in fact as her pregnancy progressed she'd find their lovemaking to be even more pleasurable than usual, but still he felt a shadow of concern as he reached for her. She saw his face, and stopped.

"There's nothing to worry about, my love," she whispered, caressing his cheek with her thumb and sliding her fingers into his hair. "We've made love so many times in the last five weeks, without knowing, and everything's been fine. Now's no different."

"But it is different, isn't it?" he said softly.

She gazed at him, considering his question. "Yes," she admitted at last. "It is. Everything's changed. But for the better, my love. In the scariest, most wonderful way." She drew him down to her lips, and as he kissed her, he knew his concern was not for her, or the baby, but for himself. There would be a time and a place to get to the bottom of it, but now, with his sweet wife's hands pulling at the drawstring of his breeches, was not the time. He breathed in, letting the intoxicating scent of her skin and hair and the urgent touch of her hands fill his senses, and came back to the present. He shucked off his shirt and reached for her, tugging at her clothing and throwing it across the room as she pulled him free of his breeches, then her hands and lips were everywhere on his skin, tasting and teasing and caressing him with soft bites and licks and sweet kisses. She was fire, and she set him ablaze. He wanted to reciprocate, to taste and tease her in turn, but she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, grinding herself against his length. Clearly she knew what she wanted, and it didn't involve waiting, and he let her have control. Using their clasped hands for leverage, she took him inside her, and he groaned as she began moving, murmuring her name, and she let her eyes close and her head fall back, soft words of love falling from her lips. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, his eyes never leaving her face, and wrapped her legs around his waist to draw her close against his chest as she moved. It was the most natural thing in the world, to celebrate the creation of life with the act of love that created it, and the most beautiful, when it was the one you loved beyond words that you held in your arms, and who carried that life inside her. She opened her eyes and locked them on his, and he felt himself nearing the point of no return. He reached down between them to find her bud with his thumb, and stroked her as she moved, faster and faster, bringing her shuddering, pulsating climax to sweep over her as, moments later, he lost himself inside her.

She collapsed on his shoulder, panting and utterly spent, and he lowered her gently to the bed, and gathered her close, his own breathing laboured and his heart pounding in his chest.

He was almost asleep when he heard her whisper to him. "Fili."

"What is it, beloved?"

He could hear the teasing lightness in her voice even though she was whispering. "The next one, my love. Our next baby."

"What about it?"

"Let's conceive it on the parapet."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and kissed her hair, and snuggled her closer in his arms.


	17. Chapter 17

As Sigrid stirred and sleepily opened her eyes, she saw Fili beside her, his head propped up on one arm, gazing at her with his eyes still full of wonder. She smiled at him.

"Good morning, my love," she whispered.

"Beloved," he replied softly, tracing a fingertip down her cheek. "Good doesn't even begin to describe it." He leaned in and kissed her lips, then lay back down beside her and drew her in to rest her head on his shoulder, and his arms held her as gently as if she were made of crystal rather than flesh and blood.

"So, the parapet for our next baby, you say?" he said with a chuckle. "It's taken us five years to get this far, love. What if it takes that long again next time? People _might_ begin to notice."

"Well, it's your fault," she teased. "Even though we're miles away, you managed to make it sound like the most romantic place in the world. How's a girl to resist that?"

He kissed her again, and lowered his voice. "Ah, love. It's you being there that makes it the most romantic place in the world," he said. "But seriously, let's not worry about next time just yet. For now let's think about getting you safely through this one." He nuzzled his nose into her hair and kissed her head. "Do you have any idea when it was, beloved? Which time, I mean?"

"That's the funny thing. As far as I can make out, it would have to have been before we left home, well before." Her voice dropped a tone. "Before the fight."

"And here I was hoping it was when we made up," Fili murmured teasingly in her ear. "That would have been excellent."

She shook her head with a rueful smile, then turned to face him. "Sorry to disappoint, but it had to have been before that."

Beside her, Fili was silent, looking up at the ceiling, and Sigrid knew he was trying to think back.

"It was the charts, Fili," she said quietly. "They worked."

It was a complicated feeling, knowing that it was her obsession with the charts that had caused the rift between them, but that they had also actually succeeded in their aim. And to think, she had given up on them. She'd thrown them in the fire. If she had done that even a few weeks earlier…

"Beloved, stop." Fili's low voice and his warm hand on her cheek interrupted her train of thought. "I can see what you're thinking. It's on your face, as plain as day. You're blaming yourself for giving up again, aren't you?"

"I wish it really had been that time, when we made up," she said despondently.

"In the end it doesn't matter either way, love, truly. We're here, we're having a child. That's all we need to focus on." He snuggled her closer in his arms. "The past is done. Let it be, and think of the future."

He was right. He always was. He held her close, and with a deep breath she slid her hand up his chest and pressed her lips into his neck, relaxing in his embrace and letting his optimism ease her mind. She felt him lift his free arm as he moved to rub his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Although, to be honest with you, love, I can't say as I don't have any concerns myself."

Sigrid leaned back in surprise to look at his face. "You've got concerns? Not about me, I hope? Or the baby? We're going to be fine, Fili."

He pulled her back into his side. "No, not about you and the baby, beloved. Although I'm still annoyed with myself that we're so far from home. No, about me."

She was glad he had brought it up. She had known last night that something was worrying him, and he never worried about anything.

"What is it, my love?" she said softly, sliding her fingers along his chest. "Do you want to tell me?"

He clasped her hand and held it to him. "We've wanted this for so long, love, and now it's real. I'm going to be a father," he said. He paused and lowered his voice. "I never really knew my father. I only have a few memories of him, from when I was small. Kili doesn't remember him at all. Thorin was the only father figure we had, Sigrid. He loved us, of course, but he was more obsessed with reclaiming the Mountain than being a substitute father to his nephews." He stopped with what she could tell was a wry grin. "He was a bit intense."

"I can imagine," Sigrid replied. She already knew how Fili felt about his father and his uncle. He had told her years ago how his father had died, leaving his mother distraught, as well as the details of how Thorin had stepped in to help look after the three of them. From what she knew of Thorin, she had some idea of what it must have been like for Fili as a child.

"Now that it's really happening for us, it's hit me how little I know about being a father. A proper one." He let go of her hand and turned to face her, and she was stricken by the anxiety in his eyes. "What if I mess it up?"

She gazed at him for a moment with her heart in her eyes, and then smiled and kissed him. "Not possible, my love. No, listen to me. That's the one thing I've got no doubt about." She moved back to make space between them, and took his hand and held it to her stomach.

"Hey, Gwinig, this is your Adad," she said, looking down and addressing her words to the life inside her. "He's the bravest, kindest, most wonderful person in the world, and he loves you more than anything. You're the luckiest baby there's ever been, to have him for your Adad." She looked back up at Fili's eyes, and melted at the tenderness that they held as he looked at her.

"Not true, love," he murmured, and her face fell. "Not more than anything. Not more than you." He took her face in his hands and kissed her, as soft as velvet, then put his hand back on her stomach. "What did you call it? Gwinig?"

"That's Birger's term. It's going to stick, I'm afraid."

"That's all right, I like it." He looked down. "Hey in there, Gwinig. You already know your mamma, but I have to tell you something about her. She was right, you're the luckiest baby there's ever been, to have her as your mamma. We're both lucky, Gwinig, you and I, to have her in our lives. I want you to be just like her, just as smart, just as loving, just as stubborn." He grinned and flinched when she swatted his shoulder. "And just as beautiful. And if you could manage to have her honey-coloured hair, I would be very happy." He looked back up at her, and his eyes were back to their sunny, twinkling selves. "How was that? Don't be too harsh, it was my first time conversing with the unborn."

She looked at him curiously. "Do you think it's a girl?"

"Don't you?" he said in surprise, pulling back slightly.

"I think it's a boy. With blue eyes and dimples and hair like the sun, and he'll break all the girls' hearts with how handsome he is."

Fili laughed. "Well, we'll see. But you've eased my heart, my sweet love. With you beside me, I can't go wrong. We've got this."

"Of course we have. Now, let's go see if we're not too late for breakfast. I'm hungry."

* * *

With mixed emotions they broke the news to Maggie and Birger over breakfast that they were planning to leave as soon as possible. They were keen to continue their journey after the disruption caused by the last few days, the more so in the knowledge of Sigrid's condition and the necessity of making the round trip back to Erebor before the pregnancy advanced too far, but at the same time they had developed a warm friendship with Maggie and Birger, and were genuinely sorry to say goodbye to them. Sigrid stayed behind to speak to Maggie as Fili and Birger headed out to the stables to saddle the ponies.

"I figured as much, that once those robbers were caught, you'd be getting on," Maggie said with a resigned air. "I set a couple of extra loaves last night, just in case, and I've topped up your food bag. Mind you stay a while with us on the way back, too, though you might notice a few changes around here by then, if all goes to plan."

Sigrid looked at Maggie in surprise. "Why? What have you got planned, Maggie?"

Maggie only grinned enigmatically. "You'll have to come back and see. A few things have to fall into place yet, but I think you'll like it when you see it." She held out her hand, and Sigrid took it and pressed it. "Now, to say it's been a pleasure doesn't seem enough, really."

"We feel the same, Maggie," Sigrid said. "We'll miss you both. And thank you for the food, that was very thoughtful of you." She reached for Fili's coin purse in her pocket. "Please, let me give you something."

Maggie waved her offer away. "Nonsense. I know you've a craving for fresh bread. It was no trouble, and it doesn't begin to pay you back for what you've done for us, truly."

"A craving? I guess it is," Sigrid said with a laugh. "I hadn't thought about it like that, but you're right, Maggie dear." She surprised the innkeep by pulling her in for a hug. Maggie huffed for a moment, then hugged her tightly back.

"Go on with you," she said after Sigrid released her, trying to hide her emotions. They heard voices from the front of the inn, and glanced out the windows at the front of the great room, where they could see Fili and Birger drawing up the ponies, fully laden with their packs. Maggie looked glum. "Look, there's your husband now. I won't know how to thank him properly, dearie. I can't find the words." She sighed. "Where's that blasted minstrel when you need him?"

Sigrid smiled at her and rubbed her arm reassuringly. "It's all right, dear Maggie, he knows. You don't need to say anything."

They stepped outside, and Sigrid made her way to Birger, giving him a warm hug.

"Thank you for all your help, Birger. We'll come to see you on our way back, and when Gwinig is born, we'll come and visit you, so you can see him."

"'Her,'" Fili called from the other side of Mindy's head.

"Goodbye, Sigrid, goodbye Fili," Birger said in his rapid, slurred voice. "Please stay safe." He turned and moved to each pony in turn, patting their noses and saying his goodbyes, while Fili came to shake Maggie's hand.

"Thank you, Maggie, for everything," he said fervently.

Maggie gave him a melancholy smile. "You're welcome, but it's I that should be thanking you, my lord. I won't wish you good fortune, as I know you make your own, but I'll wish you a safe journey instead. And mind you look after your wife."

Fili laughed. "I will, never fear. We'll see you on the way back." He pressed her hand, then turned and clapped Birger on the back, holding his hand out again for another shake, and then it was time to go. He helped Sigrid into the saddle, and mounted his own pony, and they set off, waving a last goodbye before turning their faces towards the open road.

* * *

"So, where to now, O Leader of the Packhorses?" Sigrid said with a grin as they rode side by side down the road, the sun shining, and insects and the occasional bird flitting in and out of the bushes around them.

"Hmm, not one of your best ones," Fili grinned back. "Makes me sound like a pony. I was thinking, there's a place I visited years ago, about halfway between here and the Hills and a bit to the north, that I'd love you to see. We wouldn't have made it in a day in any case, but now that we're cutting our pace and time in the saddle, it'll probably be the day after tomorrow."

"And what's the attraction? It's not the Blue Wyvern, is it?" she said slyly, remembering Kili's speech from their wedding feast, years ago.

"Very funny," Fili replied, rolling his eyes. "That's in Dunland, anyway, so the joke's on you. No, it's not a tavern, love. It's a waterfall."


	18. Chapter 18

It was a pleasure to be riding in the open countryside, just the two of them, with the sun shining in the blue sky above and unseen birds twittering in the low bushes as they passed. Although, the sun was quite warm, Sigrid thought, squinting her eyes against the noontime brightness as they stopped for lunch in a clearing. It was their third day out from the Pick and Shovel, and Sigrid could see their destination not far ahead, the lower slopes of a range of low hills, dark with trees, where Fili's waterfall was located. There were no trees along the stretch of road around them, however, only scrubby bushes and low heath, barely chest high but tough and hardy, well suited to the rocky, sandy soil, which meant there was no refuge from the sun. Sigrid's face felt hot and her skin sensitive as she dabbed at her cheeks and forehead with a handkerchief she'd dampened with water from her drinking skin.

"I think my skin is burning," she said, angling her face towards Fili and turning from side to side for his assessment. "Am I red?"

"Yes, you are a bit," he replied. "You need a hat, love."

She jumped up from the picnic blanket to search her saddlebags, and found a floppy, wide-brimmed sunhat, faded and creased, shoved in amongst her linens. She pulled it into shape and put it on, turning back to Fili with a playful half-curtsey.

"How do I look? Stylish?"

"Practical," he said with a grin. "We won't make the waterfall for another two hours, I don't want you burnt to a crisp before we get there."

"Not a chance, now. This is my gardening hat. Not the most elegant-looking thing, I know, but it does keep the sun off." She squinted skyward again. "It hasn't bothered me up 'til now, but my skin feels awful today. Prickly and sensitive." She pulled at the seat of her riding breeches. "And not just on my face."

"A cool dip in a river is what you need. Two more hours and we're there," Fili said, climbing up from the blanket and brushing down his breeches. "Let's get going."

* * *

An hour later, they reached the junction where the road leading north-east towards the waterfall met the main road, and Sigrid's skin was itching all over. Her riding breeches, made of the softest skin leather and usually supremely comfortable, felt tight and hot, and she knew she was in danger of developing heat rash. There was an itchy ring of sweat around her forehead from her hat, though it had done its job and kept the sun from her face, and her back ached. Fili had pulled up at the intersection, and had turned in the saddle to grin back at her: behind a rail fence, a small farm occupied a corner between the two roads, and the air around it was full of the scent of freshly-baked bread.

Sigrid grinned half-heartedly back at her husband. She felt uncomfortable, hot and fed up, and just wanted to press on, the sooner to reach their next camp and rest, but the smell really was irresistible.

"Do you want to ask, or shall I?" Fili said, his eyes twinkling.

"You can do the honours," she said. She felt in no mood to be patient enough to barter. Fili dismounted and flung Mindy's reins around a fence rail, and strode forward to knock on the door.

After a lengthy pause, a sullen-looking man, small, dark, scruffy and unshaven, pulled open the door and stepped out. He scowled at Fili.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Fili glanced back at Sigrid, yards away and still mounted on Daisy, and his eyes expressed his relief that she hadn't been the one to knock on the door. He turned back to the farmer.

"Just travellers, passing by. We won't keep you," he said. "We couldn't help but notice the smell of your bread, and we were wondering if you'd sell us a loaf." He held up a coin to emphasise his point.

"Coin? And what would I want with coin?" the farmer said scornfully. "Do you see any shops or taverns around here?"

Behind him, a young man appeared in the doorway, as dark as the farmer though half a head taller, looking out with a wary expression. "What is it, Da?" he said, looking Fili up and down.

The farmer turned on the youth. "It's nothing," he spat. "Mind your business and get back inside." He grabbed the young man's arm and tried to shove him back through the door. The young man weathered the shove and stood where he was, seemingly unfazed by either the tone of voice or the roughness directed against him.

"Hey, there's no need for that," Fili said, suddenly serious.

"My son, my house, my rules," the farmer said in a cold voice. "My bread. You'd best be on your way."

Sigrid was the only one who realised how angry Fili was. She knew he would never dream of attacking the farmer, no matter how mean-spirited and provoking he was, but seeing him treating his son roughly was another matter, even if the lad was no longer a child. She slid down from Daisy and quickly made her way to Fili's side, and took hold of his hand.

"It's no matter, Fili. We can make do with what we have," she said quietly. He drew in a slow, deep breath at her touch, and his shoulders relaxed. The glare he had been giving the farmer changed subtly to a look of grim calculation, and his voice became firm and measured.

"You're right, Sigrid. Let's you and I go on to the Iron Hills, it's not that far away. We can find everything we need there. And we'll find there are people there who will treat us decently. We don't have to put up with treatment like this." Fili was ostensibly addressing Sigrid, though his eyes were on the cold, hostile face of the farmer, but behind them both, Sigrid caught a flicker of uncertainty as it registered in the young man's eyes. Fili spared one quick glance at the young man, then narrowed his eyes again at his father, and finally turned and looked at Sigrid with a brief, resigned half-smile. He held Sigrid's hand out for her to precede him back to their ponies, and they mounted and prepared to ride on. Back in the doorway of the farm house, the sullen eyes of the farmer watched them go, but his son was nowhere in sight.

Fili rode beside Sigrid for ten minutes in silence, fuming, before his words burst from him like a dam breaking.

"People like that…" he began, his mouth grim. He didn't finish. "I just hope the lad figures it out. I didn't want to be too blatant about telling him to leave, or his good-for-nothing father would stop him." He looked across at Sigrid, and suddenly his eyes were full of doubt. "Was it the right thing to do, Sigrid? Or should I not have interfered?"

Sigrid shook her head slowly, her eyes soft as she gazed at her husband. "You couldn't stand by and watch someone be shoved around like that without saying something, my love. It's not in your nature. And as for your solution, you can only try what you think is best. If there were smaller children, or if we'd seen that farmer beating the lad, it would have been a different story. But from what little we saw…" Her eyes wandered out to the horizon ahead of them as she thought, and then turned back to Fili's. "You gave him the option, and you did it the best way you knew how without putting him at further risk. I think it was absolutely the right thing to do."

Fili sighed, and reluctantly nodded. "And he's a grown lad. It's his decision, in the end." He fell silent again, lost in his thoughts, and then suddenly he looked at her, his eyes soft. "Ah, love. You have such faith in me. It warms my heart."

She grinned at him. "Well, it helps that you're usually right about everything," she quipped. "You're a pretty safe bet, Fili, my love."

He laughed, his customary sunny optimism returning to his eyes, and they rode on under the warm sun, towards the wooded slopes of the hills ahead of them.

* * *

They finally arrived amongst the relief of the trees, stands of tall and thriving evergreens that shaded the grassy slopes of the hill. They rode through them, and the sound of rushing water filled the air as they came out onto the banks of a small, fast-flowing stream. Sigrid dismounted, pulling uncomfortably at her breeches and taking off her hat to wipe her forehead with her sleeve, and led Daisy up along the bank. Ahead she saw the stream widen into a pool, dark but clear, and was able to spot fish moving lazily across the rocky bottom. Making her way upstream through the sparse cover, she looked up, and drew in a breath in wonder. Facing her at the other end of the pool was an outcrop of red rock, about fifteen feet high, its horizontal striations and blunt face softened by years of water and wind, but still looking for all the world as though it were a tumbled pile of children's stacking blocks that had been chiselled out by an enormous hand. The stream poured over the straight top edge of the outcrop in a dozen flashing rivulets, and on the right hand side fell unhindered into the pool, but on the left was dashed against a series of haphazardly stepped, flat, mossy stones, the water dropping again and again down to the left and right, and finally hitting a large, partially-submerged rock at the base of the falls before trickling away into the pool.

"Is it real?" Sigrid asked in wonder, all thoughts of the unpleasant incident at the farm and her physical discomfort momentarily forgotten.

"It's natural, if that's what you mean," Fili said as he led Mindy up beside her, his eyes on the falls. The ponies, sensing their riders were distracted, took their chance to step slowly forward and dip their heads to the stream, drinking their fill of the cool water. When he realised what Mindy was doing, Fili gave his reins some slack, then glanced at Sigrid, who did the same, and smiled. "So. What do you think? Worth the detour?"

"Definitely," she said with an answering smile. "It's amazing. I'm guessing we're not camping on the riverbank here, though."

"You're right. It's unlikely to rain, but I'm sure you can imagine the speed of a flood crashing down from up there if it did. Better safe than drowned." Fili looked around and pointed with his reins up the slope to their right. "We're going up there."

Once the ponies had finished watering, he led the way uphill, and they found a flat, open area for their campsite, and set about unsaddling the ponies and setting up for the night. As she worked, Sigrid's awareness of her discomfort returned, and she searched her saddlebags for a change of clothes, pulling out a skirt and blouse and shaking out the wrinkles.

"Are you getting changed, love?" Fili said when he saw what she was doing.

"My breeches are killing me," she replied. "They're too tight. I must be gaining weight." She slid her hand down her thigh and over her backside, then over the curve of her stomach, and gave Fili an impish grin. "Will you still love me when I'm the size of a barn?"

"No, of course not," he said, barely keeping a straight face, and then grinned and fended her off as she came at him with an indignant laugh, whacking at him with the skirt in her hand. He finally caught her wrists and she let him pull her towards him for a kiss. "Ah, beloved. You know I'll love you until the end of time, no matter what. But why not come and have a swim first, before you get changed? You can catch us some supper, too."

"Good idea. I want to see if I can wash this itchy feeling off my skin."

They fetched their towels from their saddlebags, and hand in hand, headed down to the waterfall.


	19. Chapter 19

Sigrid shimmied out of her breeches and left them with her boots, blouse and stays on the bank of the pool, and stepped carefully into the water in her linens. The water reached up to her knees, and it was pleasantly cool, not bone-chillingly cold as she had feared, coming down as it did from the northern hills, and her skin felt better immediately. She scooped it up to run down her thighs, then onto each arm, and up to her neck and face, and then slowly waded further in and sank into the deeper water with a sigh. Above her, Fili had climbed up to one of the flat rocks halfway up the outcrop, and after stopping to wave at her, he leapt off, tucking his knees to his chest and sending up a tremendous splash as he plunged into the water. Sigrid laughed and turned her face away as she was showered with droplets, and then Fili surfaced and swam up beside her, flicking back his wet hair and wiping his face as he floated effortlessly in the water with a huge grin.

"That looks like fun," she said. "Can we come back after the baby's born so I can have a go?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Ah, love, if it were for any other reason, I'd say how sorry I was you had to miss out. But I can't bring myself to wish it otherwise."

"I know." She put her arms around Fili's neck and looked over his shoulder up at the water pouring down the cliff face, then back into his soft, loving eyes. "It doesn't feel like missing out, though. It's all in how you look at it, isn't it? The reason makes all the difference. Just make sure you jump off a few times for me."

Fili feigned reluctance with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "If I must. Only because you insist, mind." He kissed her, then with a grin and a laugh, released her and swam back towards the rocks.

Sigrid swam and floated about the pool as she watched Fili jump and flip off the rocks time and again, and she couldn't help but smile at the fun he was obviously having. After about twenty minutes she started feeling fatigued, and waded out onto the bank to rest. Fili looked her way, then swam back towards her with swift, clean strokes.

"Everything all right, love?" he called.

"I'm fine, just tired. By the way, there won't be a fish left to be caught for a mile around at the rate you're going. You'll have scared them all off."

"Nah. They hide under the banks. As soon as the water settles, they'll be out again." He looked at the pile of clothes on the ground beside Sigrid. "Do you have your knife there, love?"

Sigrid's brows drew together, puzzled. "I do, actually. Why do you ask?"

"There's someone hiding back there," he said quietly. "Twelve yards away on your left, the tree with a clump of ferns at the base." He waded slowly out of the water and picked up a towel, and began calmly drying off and rubbing at his hair.

Sigrid froze for a moment in shock, then gathered herself and rummaged through the pile of clothing for her knife. She held it up to Fili.

He looked down at her. "You could throw it, love, if you want. Aim at the tree, like you've been practising. You won't kill anyone. It will just give them a shock."

Sigrid swallowed nervously. "No. You do it."

He leaned down to reach for his breeches, and briefly caressed her face and took the knife from her hand at the same time. "You're safe with me, love. Don't worry."

He straightened up and smiled softly at her, then suddenly turned and threw the knife. It whirled through the air and lodged with a thud at head height in the centre of the trunk.

"We know you're there," Fili called out in a commanding tone that reminded Sigrid of Thorin. "Show yourself."

A dark-haired figure stepped hesitantly out from behind the tree, his arms raised above his head and a look of panic on his face. It was the lad from the farm.

"Stop, please, I'm no threat," he said, his voice high-pitched and rushed. He cleared his throat and lifted a bag that was slung over his shoulder. "Look. I brought you some bread."

"Sneaking around in the bushes is a good way to get yourself hurt, lad," Fili said as he pulled his breeches on. "But not by us, fortunately. What do you mean by it?"

"I wanted to come and apologise. I saw you were swimming, and I thought I'd wait until you were finished. I wasn't looking," the young man said hurriedly. He stepped forward and glanced sideways at the knife lodged in the tree, then did a double-take. He reached up to lever it out, holding it in his palm and staring at it as he walked swiftly toward Fili and Sigrid. "Where did you get this knife?"

Fili helped Sigrid to her feet and stepped in front of her while she pulled on her skirt and blouse. "My wife took that from a cutpurse who was trying to rob her. Why?"

The young man, seemingly mesmerised by the knife, looked up in confusion, but didn't answer the question, instead countering with one of his own. "What did he look like? Did you know his name?"

"Walcott," Fili said, wary. "Why do you ask, lad? Do you know him?"

"I know Walcott," the young man replied. "I gave him this knife for Yule two years ago. He's my brother."

* * *

Fili looked the lad over. He was taller than Walcott, and less thin, but he could see a vague resemblance in his features and dark hair. The expression on this lad's face, however, was straightforward and artless, and couldn't have been more different to what he remembered of the cutpurse.

"I'm Fili, and this is my wife Sigrid," Fili said. "Come, sit down. What's your name, lad?"

"Wilgeirr. Will," he said diffidently. He reached into his bag and pulled out a loaf of bread. "Here, please, take this. It was rude of my father to turn you away, and I'm sorry for it."

Sigrid thanked him and took the loaf. "Will, I have to say, it looked like your father was quite rough with you. Is he always like that? Do you need help?"

"Oh, he tries to shove me around, but it's no use. I'm bigger than him now," Will said with a wry smile. "Da never hit me the way he did Wal, though. Wal left because of it, in the end. He was going to send for me, once he got set up in the Iron Hills." His eyes turned on Fili with an apprehensive look. "You said Wal was a cutpurse? There must be some mistake. It can't be true."

Fili exchanged a glance with Sigrid. It was clear the lad loved his brother, and had no idea of his recent actions. He himself also seemed to be good at heart, all of which made it rather an uncomfortable prospect to have to disillusion him.

"We came across him at the Pick and Shovel Inn about a week ago," Fili said at last. "He was in a gang of thieves led by another man, Taft. They were rounded up and taken to the Iron Hills."

Will stared at Fili, pain and disbelief in his eyes. He shook his head. "There must be some mistake," he repeated. "He was going to send for me. We were going to set up a shop."

Fili's heart went out to the young man. He reflected for a moment on how impossible it would be, were he in that situation, to believe similar news about Kili. But despite the lad's commendable love for his brother, and despite whatever desperate circumstances had led him to commit robbery, Fili knew Walcott had been caught red-handed. The young man shook his head, then let it drop, and his hand went to his forehead.

"I'm sorry," Sigrid said softly. She reached out and rubbed the lad's shoulder. "This has come as a shock, I can tell. Stay and have supper with us. We're on our way to the Iron Hills. You can come with us." Sigrid looked at Fili. "He'll be able to see Walcott, won't he, Fili? Find out what happened?"

"Of course," Fili said. "Dain will deal fairly with your brother, Will, no matter what he's done. Why don't you sleep here tonight, and come with us in the morning. We're travelling slowly, but we'll be able to help you once you get there."

Will looked up, his eyes red and glistening, and shook his head. "I can't wait. I have to go now. I have to see him." He climbed up from the grass and looked around, disoriented for a moment in his shock and grief. "My horse is here somewhere."

Fili stood up, exchanging another glance with Sigrid. As much as he thought it was a better idea for Will to come with him, he understood the young man's urgency. He pointed towards the trees on their left. "Your horse is over there. Will, listen to me. Ask for Nyrath, the Captain of the Guard, and tell him Fili sent you and that he requests you be allowed to see your brother. Do you have somewhere to stay when you get there?"

He nodded. "I have an aunt. Da stopped us from seeing her after Mam died, but I'm sure she'll take me in if I ask," he said. He suddenly stopped in wonder and frowned, comprehending the implications of what Fili had just told him. "You're sending me with instructions to the Captain of the Guard? Who are you?"

Fili grinned. "Fili, of Erebor, at your service. Dain's my kin. I've brought you bad tidings, Will, and I'm sorry for that, but I'll help ease your grief if I can. "

The lad stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head, a wry smile making its way begrudgingly across his face. "I don't thank you for the tidings, Fili, but I am glad you're the one who brought them, and I thank your for your help." He turned to go.

"Will, wait," Sigrid said, scrambling up from the grass. She held out the loaf of bread. "Here. I'd hate you to go hungry on the road."

"Keep it," he replied with another wry smile. "I'll be fine." He turned and left in the direction Fili had pointed out, disappearing between the trees.

* * *

Sigrid couldn't see many stars through the boughs of the trees above them that night, as she lay tucked warmly into Fili's shoulder in their bedrolls. They had eaten a quiet supper after their encounter with Will, and she'd left Fili to his thoughts, knowing that he'd confide in her when he was ready. Her own thoughts dwelled on the difference between the two brothers, and on whether Will's faith in Walcott was justified. Had he been a good man, led astray by circumstance? Or was Will blinded by love? There was no way of knowing. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Fili sighed beside her, and she slid an arm around his waist. He nestled her closer and turned to kiss her hair.

"You know I'm not given to brooding, love," he said, "but I can't help thinking of Kili. I'd never believe it either, if someone told me he'd turned robber. I'd have to believe it was a mistake. I couldn't do otherwise."

"Of course you couldn't," Sigrid said. "But Kili's earned your faith by his actions, for decades. Will's young, and idealistic, I think. And Walcott's his older brother. He probably grew up looking up to him. It's easy to be blinded by love."

"Well, I'll do my best to help Will, when we get there," Fili said with another deep breath. "But I can't excuse Walcott. I wouldn't even if I could. He pulled a knife on you, and tried to rob you."

"I'm fine, my love. What's done is done. But yes, he broke the law, and has to face the consequences," she replied. As she craned her neck up to look into Fili's eyes, she saw they were full of concern, and she tried to think of a way to ease his troubles. She snuggled back into his shoulder. "You know, it's a good thing Kili will never turn robber," she said. "Can you imagine him running around, holding up the countryside? No-one would be safe."

She felt Fili chuckle. "Imagine if Thorin got hold of him, if he did. That would be something to see," he said. She smiled, pleased that she'd been able to make him laugh, and craned up to kiss him again.

"You know, I'm quite in danger of being blinded by love myself," she said teasingly. "If only you had a few faults, my love."

"Ah, love. I was blinded the moment we met," he murmured into her hair. He chuckled softly again. "And I've faults aplenty already. But I'll happily develop a few more if it will please you."


	20. Chapter 20

Sigrid woke to the noise of a thousand twittering songbirds trying to outdo each other in heralding the dawn. She groaned as she rolled slowly over onto her stomach, and pulled her blanket over her head.

"Good morning, beloved," Fili said brightly beside her. "You're awake early this morning. How did you sleep?"

"I slept soundly enough. It's the waking up that's not going so well," she said, her irritable, croaky voice muffled by the blanket. She poked her head out to glare with bleary eyes up at the trees. "What is wrong with these birds? Why are they making such an awful racket?"

"They're like this every morning. You usually sleep through it, love," Fili replied. "Out on the plains there's only ever been a couple of dozen birds in the bushes around us. There must be hundreds here."

Sigrid pulled the blanket back over her head. "Make them go away."

Fili laughed. "Ah, love. Tonight you'll be sleeping in a proper bed, with fine sheets and a soft quilt, after a warm bath, and with a meal that we didn't cook ourselves in your belly. And tomorrow morning you won't hear a thing."

"I can't wait," she muttered ungraciously. Then she gave a huge sigh, rolled onto her side, and folded the blanket back down to look at Fili. "I'm sorry I'm crabby, my love. I'm tired, and out of sorts. It feels like I have a hangover."

He gently caressed her cheek. "It's all right, beloved. Do you feel like eating? If you want, I'll bring you some breakfast, and then we'll get going straightaway. We'll be there by lunch time, and you can rest."

"Sounds perfect," she said with a wan smile, and with a sweet kiss Fili got up and went to search the food bag for some breakfast for her. Sigrid lay and watched him with another sigh. In the two days since they had left the waterfall, she had been feeling gradually more and more unwell, like she was coming down with the grippe, or, as she'd said, like she had indulged in too much wine the night before, though in truth she hadn't touched a drop since leaving the Pick and Shovel. Fili had been nothing but thoughtful and attentive, making sure she had a full waterskin next to her to sip on at all times, and that she didn't go too long without nibbling on something. He had also insisted that they not ride too far each day, and was constantly on the lookout for signs that she was overdoing it, his customary crease of concern between his brows. She looked at him as he returned with a slab of bacon wrapped in a cloth, some cheese and bread, and the last pieces of fruit from the bag Maggie had supplied from her orchard.

She thought of the bacon frying in a pan, oily and pungent, and she rolled onto her side and retched.

The next moment Fili was beside her, holding her forehead as she gulped in deep breaths of fresh air and tried not to think about food.

"Oh, Sigrid," he said, his voice low and worried. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," she replied between breaths. "Just take it away. No, on second thoughts, leave the bread. I have to try to get something down."

She nibbled at a slice of bread while Fili packed the food away again, and the queasy feeling lessened, though it didn't disappear. She noticed he didn't eat anything himself.

"You have to have breakfast, Fili," she said. "Don't stop eating on my account."

He came back and sat down beside her on the bedroll. "I'll wait. They can feed me at the Iron Hills. It's only a couple of hours," he replied. He laid a hand on her cheek. "Oh, love, it's awful seeing you so unwell, and knowing I can't do anything about it."

"Most women get sick, Fili, and they get through it. I'll get through it," she said, and as she said the words, she realised that as bad as she felt, she wouldn't wish it otherwise. She took his hand from her cheek and brought it to rest on her stomach. "I'll gladly throw up every day for the next seven months, if I have to, if it means Gwinig's in there, growing and thriving." She grinned weakly at him. "But hopefully it won't last that long."

"We'll see what the healers have to say about it. Now, stay here, I'll pack the ponies, and when you're ready, we'll get going."

"No. I can help. I'm pregnant, not paralysed," she said defiantly. She stood up, then sat straight back down again as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her. She gulped in some more fresh air. "Just give me a minute."

Unfooled, Fili gave her a look from under his eyebrows, a mixture of sympathy and amused scepticism, and she nodded in resignation. "All right. Just this once, then."

* * *

Her nausea stabilising slowly as she breathed in the fresh morning air, Sigrid rose and dressed in her riding clothes while Fili packed up their campsite. She had been loosening the laces of her stays for the last week or so, giving her tender breasts enough support to ride without causing her too much discomfort, but her breeches were another matter. She had managed to wriggle awkwardly into them, but the button fly simply wouldn't do up, and after a brief struggle, she gave up in frustration and pulled the hem of her blouse down to cover her open waistband.

Once Sigrid had satisfied Fili that she was well enough to continue, they set off. Their journey took them through rolling, wooded hills, teeming with birdlife and insects, and the ponies must have stepped through half a dozen small rushing streams that Fili told her made their way down to merge with the River Redwater. The road had a reddish tinge, courtesy of the iron that the area was named for, and amongst the tall trees Sigrid could see the leathery green leaves of various azalea and rhododendron bushes, their spectacular spring blooms now faded and dropping, and she regretted for a moment that they hadn't come three months earlier. At last they rode clear of the woods, and the road from the northern hills rejoined the main road from Erebor in an area of settled farmland. They followed the road along the winding turns of a valley, thick with crops and livestock on both sides, and without the canopy of the trees the sun began to beat down mercilessly on Sigrid's head. The heat, the swaying movement of the pony, and her empty stomach, brought back her nausea, and she smiled weakly at Fili when he pointed at the buildings growing bigger ahead of them. Farmers looked up from their work as they passed, calling for their families to come out and look at the newcomers, and they gathered a gaggle of children about them, seemingly intent on running and skipping alongside them all the way to town. How the news of their arrival spread ahead Sigrid didn't know, but by the time she drew Daisy up at the town gates, red-faced and nauseous, with her breeches unbuttoned and sweat dripping down her back, half the town seemed to be waiting for them.

Fili slid down from Mindy and handed his reins to a waiting groom, and helped Sigrid dismount. The crowd in front of them parted, and, to Sigrid's dismay, with banner-wielding attendants and a trumpeter blowing a flowery fanfare, Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, and his daughter Marni made their way forward.

"Fili! Good to see you!" Dain boomed as he grabbed Fili in an enormous bear hug. "You too, Sigrid! What took you so long?" After some hearty slaps on the back, he let Fili go, and reached for Sigrid. She swallowed and tried to breathe, nausea welling in her chest, as he grabbed her shoulders and planted smacking kisses on both her cheeks.

Marni looked Sigrid over with sharp eyes and the slightest curl of her lip. Sigrid knew the lass was taking in every detail of her dishevelled appearance, and relishing it, before she turned to Fili with a sweet smile. "Prince Fili, Princess Sigrid, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to the Iron Hills," she said. "We are most honoured by your visit, and hope you will enjoy your stay." She gave an elaborate formal curtsey, and then leaned in to embrace Fili and kiss him on both cheeks. As she moved, a waft of her perfume, sickly sweet and overpowering, hit Sigrid in the face, and it was the last straw. She turned and pushed her way through the crowd to the nearest bush, and promptly threw up.

* * *

"Trust Marni to be there," Sigrid moaned disconsolately as she lay on the bed in their chamber, a cool damp cloth on her forehead. "I'm humiliated."

Fili sat beside her on the bed and took hold of her hand. "You couldn't help it, love. I'm sure everyone understands."

"Everyone but Marni," Sigrid went on. "You know she hates me."

"And she needs to get over it," he replied softly. "I made myself plain, long ago. And _you_ have no need to worry. You know that, don't you?"

Sigrid gave an exaggerated sigh, and shook her head slowly. Fili was taken aback. "You know," she said, "it's so inconvenient, the amount of people around the place that are smitten with you. Could you at least _try_ to be less perfect?"

He rolled his eyes with a grin and a little shake of his head, knowing she'd taken him in, and relieved that she could tease him about it, a sure sign she was beginning to feel better. "I could stop washing, if you like. That would drive them off."

"Mm," she considered, a smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. "You'd also be sleeping alone, however."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. After Sigrid's ignominious arrival at the town gates, Fili had scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the town, in spite of her feeble protests, to the vast wooden doors in the hillside that led to the underground dwellings of the dwarves of the Iron Hills. They'd been shown directly to their guest chamber, deep in the hillside, and a healer had been summoned to attend her. It was the healer, a white-haired dwarf with astute, piercing blue eyes and carrying a leather bag, that made his way into the room as Fili answered the door.

"Greetings, my lord, my lady. I'm Healer Fraeg," he said in a soft voice. He made his way to Sigrid's bedside and looked down at her with a compassionate gaze. "What seems to be the trouble with you, young lady?"

Sigrid pushed herself up to a sitting position as Fraeg pulled up a chair beside her and took her wrist in his gentle grasp to take her pulse. "I threw up," she said, still a trifle shamefaced.

"Morning sickness, we think, Healer Fraeg," Fili added.

Fraeg turned to Fili in surprise, his eyebrows raised, and back to Sigrid. "Is that right? Well. Let's have a look at you." Fraeg looked in Sigrid's eyes and mouth, pressed her fingernails, and gently felt around her abdomen, all the time asking her quiet questions about her menstrual cycles, her diet, and whether she'd had any bleeding or pains in the last few weeks. At last he sat back in his chair and smiled at them both.

"Everything seems to be progressing perfectly normally. I can't say I'm not surprised, but I can see no reason to doubt you'll be delivered of a perfectly healthy bairn in seven months' time, young lady. The nausea should ease eventually, but in the meantime, ginger often helps. Try to eat something as soon as you wake up, too. An empty stomach can feel as bad as the wrong food. Preferably something quite plain, but nutritious."

"Tauriel's lembas," Sigrid said suddenly, looking up at Fili. "It settled my stomach, that time I felt sick, remember? When we met Ingrid. Why didn't I think of it before?"

The saddlebags had been brought in to their room and neatly ranged against the wall by a steward, and Fili rummaged through them to find the lembas, handing the neatly-wrapped parcel to Sigrid. She unwrapped a small piece and nibbled gratefully at it. Fraeg looked it over, curious and slightly doubtful, and finally gave a shrug and an amused grunt. "Elf food? Why not, if it helps?"

Fili came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Healer Fraeg, you said you're surprised. Does that mean you've never come across this situation before? A couple like us, I mean, who've managed to conceive? We were hoping we'd find some knowledge here in the Hills that could help us."

Fraeg looked at Fili levelly. "I've not personally come across a situation like yours before, no. But that's not to say there may not be some knowledge hereabouts to help you. I'll not pretend I know all the histories, nor that I'm the last word in medical advice. There may be those amongst the elders that have the sort of information you need, former healers and midwives certainly, but also those with long memories, and those familiar with the archives. If I may make a suggestion, my granddaughter Lis has a keen interest in history. She'd be well placed to help you, if you were in need of assistance in that area."

Sitting forward on the bed, her eyes bright with hope, Sigrid grasped Fraeg's hand eagerly. "Yes, that would be a wonderful help, truly. I'd love to meet her."

"You're feeling better, then, love?" Fili said, with a grin for his wife's seemingly instant recovery.

"For now I am," Sigrid replied. "Right as rain. But no doubt the nausea will be back soon enough, Healer Fraeg?"

"I'm afraid it will be, young lady. Keep eating, every two hours or so, and try the ginger," the healer said. "If you're truly feeling better now, though, come up to lunch, and I'll introduce you to my granddaughter."


	21. Chapter 21

As Fraeg led them through the underground passageways towards the eating hall, Sigrid put out a hand to touch the timber panelling that lined the walls, so different to the stone of Erebor. "What's behind the walls, Fili?" she asked. "Earth?"

"Yes, it's earth," Fili replied. "All the halls and residences around here started out as mines, centuries ago. Once all the ore was removed, they converted the mines to housing. The current mines are a few miles north, aren't they, Fraeg?"

"So they tell me," Fraeg said with dry humour. "I've not been. I've a busy practice here in town, and days off are few and far between."

Sigrid considered Fraeg for a moment, suddenly mindful of something. "Do you treat the men and women of the town as well as the dwarves, Fraeg? You're clearly familiar with pregnancies among my people."

"Well, we're not that different, are we?" he said, turning and giving her a half-grin as he walked, his vivid blue eyes twinkling. "Two arms, two legs, one head. Anatomically it's all much of a muchness. As the two of you have gone out of your way to demonstrate." He gave a quiet laugh. "No, it's language, culture, tradition. Those are the things that keep us apart. Most of it's nonsense, and I've no patience for it. Not when people need help. Here we are."

Sigrid shared a glance with Fili, impressed by the healer's open and accepting attitude, and he grinned at her. Whatever he was about to say next, however, was drowned out as they reached the doorway of the spacious dining hall. As soon as Fili appeared, a dozen shouts of "Fili!" went up around the room, and Sigrid and Fraeg had to step to the side to dodge the throng of people that crowded around Fili, clamouring to clap him on the back or clasp his arm, all speaking in rapid Dwarvish. Sigrid barely understood one word in ten. From the centre of the crowd Fili looked up, grinning and laughing, and tried in vain to make introductions.

"Sigrid, this is Nyi, and Hannar, and Sviur; Thekk, Vithi; Vit and Lit; you know Onar and Duf, I don't know where Nib is. Anyone seen him? And this is Ginnar, and Finn, and Fjalar…"

Sigrid shook her head with a laugh. She knew she'd never remember everyone's names, and motioned to Fili to stay where he was and enjoy greeting his friends. There would be time enough to meet everyone later, once the excitement had died down. She leaned in to speak to Fraeg.

"I don't understand what they're saying. Does the Iron Hills have its own dialect?"

"Yes. Yet another way we're divided, by a common language," Fraeg said drily. "Why don't you leave your husband to reacquaint himself with his friends, and come and meet my granddaughter?" He held out his arm.

Sigrid smiled and took it. "With pleasure."

Fraeg's eyes searched the hall, and brightened in recognition when they fell on a pretty, brown-haired dwarf lass, absorbed in the book she had laid open on the table in front of her, her hand picking absent-mindedly at a plate of food to one side. Fraeg led Sigrid over, and gently cleared his throat to get the lass's attention.

"Lis, my sweet, apologies for the interruption. This is Sigrid. I thought you might be able to help her with some research."

Lis looked up from her book, a smile for her grandfather lighting up her face. It faded into shock as she saw Sigrid. She stood up hurriedly, knocking her book sideways on the table and nearly sending her plate of food to the floor.

"Oh, your Highness, I'm so sorry," she said, grasping at the items sliding about the table. She dropped an awkward curtsey. "It's an honour to meet you."

"And it's a pleasure to meet you, Lis," Sigrid replied with a smile, holding out her hand. "Fili and I are searching for some information, and I'd be truly grateful if you could help us. But please, enough with the titles. You must call me Sigrid."

Lis looked at Sigrid, surprise evident in her manner, though Sigrid didn't know from what cause, and she took Sigrid's proffered hand. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I thought… never mind. What sort of research are you in need of, Sigrid?"

"The sort that requires tact and discretion, Lissi," Fraeg said quietly, looking at his granddaughter from under his eyebrows. Lis blushed and nodded, and glanced around the crowded dining hall.

"Of course. I'm sorry, Sigrid," she said for the third time. "I'm free tomorrow morning, if you'd like to meet somewhere quiet to discuss it?"

"That would be perfect," Sigrid replied. "I appreciate your time. And Lis, there's no need to apologise, truly."

"I'm s…" Lis caught herself about to apologise again, and the two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing, and Sigrid knew that she had made a friend in the Iron Hills.

Sigrid thanked Fraeg and Lis warmly, and made her way back to where Fili was still surrounded by a circle of chattering friends. He looked up as she approached and held his arm out for her to join him.

"We've been invited to tour the blast furnaces and mines tomorrow, beloved," he said as he drew her close to his side. "Vithi and Thekk here are forge masters and ironmongers. They'll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about iron. I'll be able to pick out some steel billets, too. I'm going to make Tilda a pair of hunting knives."

"Mmm, blast furnaces. That does sound fascinating," Sigrid said, trying to keep all traces of sarcasm out of her voice as she nodded her greeting to the dwarves gathered around Fili. She laid a hand on his chest and gave him a significant look. "Unfortunately I've just made plans to meet with Fraeg's granddaughter tomorrow. You remember, Fili, that 'research' I'm interested in? Why don't you go see the furnaces, and you can tell me all about it when you get back."

Fili's face fell. "I should come with you."

Sigrid shook her head, with a poignant smile for the disappointment in Fili's eyes. "No, my love, you go. I can make a start on it while you catch up with your friends."

"All right, if you're sure," he said softly, before lifting one eyebrow, a tell-tale dimple in his cheek. "It's a shame, though. You'll be missing a treat."

"Mmm, I know," Sigrid nodded, her eyebrows raised and lips pursed in an exaggerated expression of regret. "It's such a shame."

Fili turned and gestured for the dwarves to precede him to the tables to sit down for lunch, and as the crowd moved off, he drew Sigrid close and murmured in her ear. "You're a terrible liar, love. But thank you."

* * *

"So, what now, Fili, my love? Have you got some other iron-related fun planned for us this afternoon?" Sigrid quipped as they made their way out of the dining hall after a pleasant lunch with Fili's friends.

"No such luck," Fili replied with a laugh. "No, I though we'd go and see the town. Are you up for it, love?"

"Absolutely," she said. Mindful of her sensitive skin, Sigrid asked to stop by their guest room to fetch her sunhat on the way, and then Fili led her by the hand through the maze of passageways and out through the double-height, iron-reinforced timber doors, set flush with the hillside, and into the streets of the town.

It was so different to Dale and Erebor, Sigrid thought as they ambled along in the sunny afternoon. She had seen nothing of the town on her arrival earlier in the day, the combination of physical illness and mortifying embarrassment causing her to hide her face in Fili's shoulder as he had carried her in his arms from the gates to their guest quarters, and she found the differences to her home environment striking. A similar range of shops and houses as was found in Dale graced the streets, which were laid out in a charmingly irregular fashion in the narrow valley with steep hills on either side, but the populations of dwarves and men and women were far more integrated than they were back at home, the two peoples mingling freely in the shops and taverns of the town. The products of dwarven ironmongeries and jewellery workshops were displayed side-by-side with the wares of human bakers and haberdashers, butchers and basketmakers, and Sigrid everywhere saw the two peoples amiably chatting, inspecting goods, and haggling over purchases. If there was anywhere in the kingdom where other couples like Fili and herself had existed, it would be here in the Iron Hills.

Fili pointed out a tannery shop, graded leather in various earthy colours hanging on display racks to either side of the shop door.

"Shall we order you some new riding breeches, love?" he suggested with a smile.

"Good idea," she said, and stepped forward to enter the door.

The air was full of the distinctive smell of leather as Sigrid went inside, strong but not overpowering, and thankfully not triggering any queasiness in her stomach. She glanced around the racks of hides, waterskins, bags and tack as the proprietor came forward, a cheery, grey-haired woman in a leather apron.

"Welcome, miss! What can I help you with today?"

"I'm after a deer or kid skin for a new pair of riding breeches," Sigrid said. "And if you could recommend a tailor, I'd appreciate it."

"The deerskin's just here," the woman said, pointing out the soft taupe leather pieces on a rack. "We've no kidskin on hand, though. I'd have to give our beamhouse a week to prepare some, if you'd prefer it. Sigbert over in Market Lane would be able to run you up the breeches, no trouble at all."

They were interrupted by a voice from the doorway. "No, no, no. Sigbert's a ham-fisted butcher, Griet. No-one's touching my lady's clothing but me."

Sigrid turned around in surprise. "Benni!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" She held out her arms as her friend Bennon from Erebor stepped forward to kiss Sigrid on both cheeks.

"Lady Dis sent me along with your gowns and jewels," he said. "Messenger service. Thank goodness you've arrived, my lady, I've been here two weeks and I'm bored to tears. How was your trip? I met my lord your husband outside, handsome as ever. But let me look at you." Benni held Sigrid's arms wide and surveyed her from head to foot with a practised eye. He frowned, then gave a little start, and looked incredulously back at Sigrid's face, and she knew that he had realised she was with child. She quickly placed a finger on her lips, glancing at Griet, and he nodded, his hand on his chest and his eyes misty. He grasped Sigrid's hand again with an excited shake, then, for Griet's benefit, quickly resumed his breezy manner. "Your skin's a mess, my dear. I'll get you some rosehip oil. And what on earth is that you have on your head? Honestly, have I taught you nothing about fashion?"

Sigrid laughed. "I had to keep the sun off my face somehow, Benni."

Bennon sighed and rolled his eyes. "Thank goodness I'm here. Another week and you'd be positively provincial." He sobered, and looked at Sigrid significantly. "Leave your breeches to me, my lady, I'll make sure they'll be suitable for your needs." He looked down at her waist and hips, turning her from side to side, and Sigrid could practically see the calculations going on in his mind. He looked back up at her and smiled. "We'd best have another fitting of your gowns, too," he added.

"I'm free tomorrow afternoon," Sigrid said. "Come and find me in our guest rooms, and we'll have a catch up." She flashed him an impish grin and leaned in for a conspiratorial murmur. "Anything to get me out of visiting the smelters."

* * *

Taking leave of Bennon, Fili and Sigrid continued their stroll through the town, and headed out the gates at the opposite end to where they had entered earlier that day. A narrow path, almost overgrown with greenery, forked off from the main road about a hundred yards from the gates, and Fili led the way along it towards the steep grassy hill to one side of the valley. At the slope of the hill they found another pair of tall arched doors, much older than the ones at the entrance to the dwarves' dwellings in town, made solely of hardwood, without any iron reinforcement, and oiled and rubbed and polished to such an extent over what Sigrid assumed were centuries, that the perfectly preserved timber was as smooth and shiny as glass.

"Does someone live here?" Sigrid asked, as Fili hauled one of the doors open. Behind the door was the opening to a silent, unlit cavern.

"No, no-one lives here," Fili said softly. "It's a burial vault. Come on."

Fili pulled two torches from a stacked pile just inside the door, and lit them, handing one to Sigrid. She followed him inside.

The flickering light of the two torches illuminated the floor in front of them, and reached dimly into the corners of the cavern to their left and right, but the roof above Sigrid's head remained dark. She shivered, and moved closer to Fili. He sensed her discomfort and switched his torch to his other hand, taking hold of hers in his firm, warm grasp.

"Don't be afraid, beloved, you know you're safe with me. And I know this vault like the back of my hand. My father is buried here."


	22. Chapter 22

Fili led Sigrid deeper inside the cavern. On both sides, every few yards along, niches had been hollowed out of the walls, and each held a low, rectangular burial casket, sometimes made of timber or iron but more commonly of stone, and the flickering light of the torches revealed the names of the occupants carved in dwarven runes on plates set into the floor.

"Olov, son of Guve," Fili said, lifting the hand that was holding Sigrid's and pointing. "Rodfos son of Rodvisl. I know all the names. Kili and I used to play hide and seek in here when we were little." He gave Sigrid a sidelong grin. "Don't tell Mother that, though. She'd have _my_ hide."

"I won't," she said, her eyes surveying the tombs on both sides of the cavern, and turning back to Fili. "I can just imagine the two of you, running around in here."

"And here is my father," Fili said softly, coming to a halt in front of a stone casket, indistinguishable from the rest but for the rune plate in the floor. He let go of Sigrid's hand to reach out and touch the smooth stone top of the casket with his fingertips. "Farli, son of Hepti, laid to rest among his people. I'm the nephew of the great Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, and the grandson of Thrain, and the great-grandson of Thror, but I'm the son of this dwarf here, Sigrid. Not a great king, or a legendary warrior, but a simple soldier, who was lucky enough to win the heart of my mother."

Sigrid reached up and rubbed Fili's shoulder as he gazed at the casket. "I'd wager it wasn't luck, Fili, but his own merits," she said quietly. "I wish I could have known him."

"So do I," he replied. "I never got the chance." He gazed at his father's tomb, and Sigrid heard his voice, the merest sound possible that was not a whisper. "I like to think he would have been proud of me."

A moment later he stirred, wiped a hand across his eyes, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out three runestones, each small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and placed them one by one in a line on the corner of the casket.

"What do they say?" Sigrid asked.

Fili picked up each stone in turn. "This one is from Mother. You know the word, 'amrâlimê.' This one is from Kili, and it translates to something like 'gratitude,' or 'I am thankful.' Mine says 'honour,' as in 'I honour you,' and 'I feel honoured.' "

Sigrid smiled at her husband, her heart in her eyes, and lifted a hand to touch his cheek. "My love," she whispered, "It's impossible your father could have been anything but proud of you."

He took her hand and turned his head to kiss it, his eyes full of emotion. Then he smiled a melancholy smile. "I hope so."

They walked slowly back to the entrance of the vault, extinguishing their torches and stacking them back on the pile, and Fili hauled the door shut, leaning on it for a moment with both hands, his head bowed. Then he took Sigrid's hand, and they made their way back into town.

* * *

Fili surprised Sigrid by stopping in at a wine-merchant's store on their way back through the town.

"I want to order a skin of wine," he explained. "A particular vintage. I'm hoping it will get here before we leave. Just give me a minute." He ducked inside the shop, and a few minutes later he emerged again, his sunny smile back in place and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"It's not for you, so don't get your hopes up," he teased.

"I should hope not," Sigrid said. "No drinks for me until Gwinig's born, Fraeg said. Well, one maybe, but that's all." She stopped and frowned, puzzled. "Surely Dain will supply your wine, Fili? He certainly drinks enough when he comes to visit us. I'd say he owes you."

"Ah, it's not for me, either, my love," he said airily. "It's a secret. You'll find out in due time."

Sigrid shrugged, grinning, knowing there was no telling what Fili could be up to. "If you say so."

"I do say so. Now let's go and get ready for supper."

* * *

The guest room they had been given was the finest in Dain's halls, but it was no match for those in Erebor, and Sigrid found herself gaining a new perspective as to why Thorin had been so determined to reclaim the Mountain. Quite apart from the riches of the treasure hoard and the mines, the Mountain had also contained a whole ready-made kingdom beneath its slopes, boasting vast assembly chambers, luxurious living quarters, workshops, forges, and kitchens, not to mention the ever-burning furnaces that provided warm water directly to their own private bathing rooms. Sigrid had never taken these luxuries for granted, but she certainly missed them, she thought, as she poured lukewarm water from the pitcher on her washstand into a bowl to wash. It was a humbling experience, to realise just how well-off she and Fili were compared to their kinfolk, and she resolved to be more generous towards everyone, including Marni. Fili had headed down the hall to the bathing rooms to wash, and returned wrapped in a towel, with a jaunty stride and whistling a merry tune.

"Should we ask Bennon to bring us something nice to wear?" Sigrid asked as she rummaged through her saddlebags, propped up in the corner of their room. "He's got all our good clothes. I've only got my skirts and blouses here."

"It's just supper, it's not a feast," Fili replied as he rubbed his hair dry. "I think we'll be all right."

They dressed, and when they were ready, Fili escorted Sigrid through the passageways to the dining hall. They entered, where the sudden hum of a hundred muttering voices and the gaze of a hundred pairs of curious eyes served to set off Sigrid's nerves, and she gripped Fili's hand tightly.

"I've got you, love," he murmured in response. He led her to the honour table at the top of the dining hall, where Dain sat presiding, his attention given to a waving a rattle at a cherubic dwarf babe he was dandling on his knee, with his wife Madlen on one side, and his daughter Marni and her husband Nyrath, Captain of the Guard of the Iron Hills, on the other.

"There you are! How's your stomach, Sigrid?" Dain said in his booming voice. The child on his knee looked up at his face as he talked, clearly used to the volume, and grabbed at his beard. Dain looked back down indulgently and unwound the child's fingers from his beard, then rose and walked around the table to plop him into Sigrid's arms.

"Here, lass, play with the bairn. Maybe it'll be catching, eh, Fili? He's a Nain, like his great-grandadad."

Sigrid held Nain for a moment, and tickled his chin, eliciting a smile and a laugh, before he was snatched out of her arms by a decidedly displeased Marni.

"It's time for his supper, Adad," she said shortly. "And I'm sorry, Sigrid, but you were sick this morning. You might have the grippe or something." She called for the child's nanny, who bundled Nain away, fussing and clucking over him like a mother hen.

"I'm feeling much better, thanks," Sigrid said, her earlier resolve of being more generous towards Marni already being tested, and she hadn't even sat down yet. "Healer Fraeg said it's nothing to worry about."

Marni said nothing, but made an ungracious harrumphing noise and tossed her head as she sat back in her seat, with a disdainful glance up and down at Sigrid's clothing. Sigrid bristled. Fili looked between the two of them and quickly stepped forward to hold his arm out to Nyrath.

"Good to see you, Nyrath. How do you fare?"

Nyrath stood to grasp Fili's hand in greeting, then sat back down, all the while holding his head high and nodding at Fili, conscious of his own importance. Which, to be fair, Sigrid thought, was not inconsiderable, being both Captain of the Guard, and wed to the lord's daughter and father to his heir. "Busy, Fili, what with the constant stream of people you've been sending me," Nyrath said in a deep voice.

"It was two people," Fili laughed. "And Nib took care of one of them before he even arrived. I would like to talk to you about the lad when we get a chance, though."

"That minstrel of yours," Dain interrupted. "He's a talented bugger, that one. I've a mind to keep him."

Madlen, until now so quiet and placid that Sigrid wondered whether she had even noticed they were there, laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Language, dear."

Dain patted her hand. "Sorry Mads." He turned back to Fili and Sigrid and waved his hand at them, not unkindly, to hurry them up. "Come on then, sit down, let's eat."

Sigrid was relieved to be seated away from Marni, next to Madlen, for supper, and it wasn't a particularly taxing situation to find herself in. After an initial quiet inquiry about her health, Madlen barely spoke two words to Sigrid for the entire duration of the meal. The food was a plain, hearty stew that was kind to Sigrid's stomach, and once she had become accustomed to the crowd Fili entertained her by pointing out people that he knew. She spotted Lis at a table with several other young dwarf lasses, chattering animatedly, and pointed her out to Fili, and one of lasses nudged Lis in the ribs when she saw them looking their way. Sigrid smiled and gave her a nod, which she acknowledged with a shy smile. Then, a flash of red hair on the next table caught her eye, and she saw Owen, finishing off the last of his bowl of food.

"Fili, it's Owen. Over there, look." His head stuck out above the crowd, taller by a good six inches than the dwarves around him, and Sigrid didn't know how she could have missed him.

Fili leaned in. "I was hoping to see him. I want to pay him for bringing the message," he said quietly. "To help him with Ingrid and Olle. Here." He handed Sigrid a small clinking purse under the cover of the table. "He won't take it from me, but he might from you. Have you finished? I'll go and talk to Nib, and you go and see if you can persuade him."

With the due courtesies to Dain and Madlen, Fili and Sigrid left the honour table, and made their way through the crowd. Fili stopped to slap Nib on the shoulder, and slid into the bench next to him, already laughing at a comment he was making. Sigrid left him and continued through the crowd to Owen's table, and as she approached, Owen raised his head and his eyes lit up. He stood, and took Sigrid's hand, pressing it to his lips and then holding it close to his heart.

"My dear lady, the pleasure of greeting you increases with every meeting," he said. "How are you and the estimable Prince Fili?"

"We are well, Owen. We heard you ran into the troop that was hunting the thieves, on your way here. You may not have heard, they are caught, no small thanks to you."

Owen smiled, not letting go of Sigrid's hand. "I am glad. Maggie and Birger must be relieved. I'll wager my lord the Prince played a part in the capture, too, and in quite a different role than my paltry contribution."

Sigrid laughed. "Yes, he did, but it was mainly the troop, and it was thanks to you that they got there so quickly. Now don't argue, but we want to give you something for your trouble." She withdrew her hand from Owen's grasp to pull the coin purse from her pocket, and attempted to press it into his hands.

"No, please, my lady. It was no trouble."

"Owen, take it. It's for Ingrid and Olle, really, isn't it? You must take it, for them."

Owen sighed, and his eyes turned soft. "My Ingrid. You're right, as I suspect you always are, my lady. I'd sacrifice far more than my pride for her, and for Olle too, so I will take it, and I'll give you my thanks." He accepted the purse and pocketed it, then took hold of Sigrid's hands again. "I'm working on the most beautiful song about her, my dear lady. I'll play it for you at your feast."

"I'd love to hear it."

Owen suddenly dropped her hands, and she heard Fili chuckle as he moved up beside her. "Owen, my man. Thank you." Fili held out his hand and Owen grasped it for a friendly shake. He looked at Fili with his bright, intelligent eyes.

"You sent my dear lady Sigrid to convince me to take your coin, didn't you, my lord?"

Fili grinned and looked from him to Sigrid. "I know how she reminds you of your Ingrid. Their eyes, their hair, they're almost the same shade."

Owen nodded. "You're quite right, my lord. Honey gold, the most beautiful shade." He paused and smiled a wistful smile at Sigrid. "But not the same."

They took leave of Owen, promising to catch up with him again soon, and Fili took Sigrid's hand to walk back to their guest room. Sigrid glanced around the hall as they turned, and saw Marni, still seated at the honour table, her eyes fixed on Sigrid with a cold, insolent stare.

* * *

"It's a good thing I know about Ingrid, otherwise Owen would be in for some serious trouble," Fili said, catching Sigrid in his arms for a kiss as they readied for bed in their chamber, the dimple smiling in his cheek as he spoke belying the gravity of his words.

"He's just overly demonstrative. You know he doesn't mean anything by it," she shrugged. "But have you noticed how he drops my hand whenever he sees you? I rather suspect his affectionate ways have got him into trouble in the past."

"Interesting. He'd probably tell you the story if you asked. But enough of Owen. I'm more interested in your affectionate ways." He snuggled her closer. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine, just tired. I'll put some of Tauriel's lembas by the bed though, just in case the morning sickness comes back. It will at some point."

"Well, for now I'm putting you to bed. It's been a big day." She gave a squeal as he picked her up and carried her the two steps to the bed.

"Tuck me in?"

"Try and stop me."


	23. Chapter 23

Sigrid woke feeling wretched. Like the previous morning, she felt like she had a hangover, nauseous and headachy. She rolled onto her side, and reached out to the table beside the bed for a piece of lembas, and heard Fili's concerned voice from across the room.

"Oh, beloved, you're sick? I'll stay with you." He came around to her side of the bed and squatted on his haunches in front of her, stroking a strand of hair away from her face. He was already dressed, ready to head out. "I can tour the mines some other time."

"No, Fili, go. I'll be all right once I get something in my stomach," she replied. She took a nibble of the waybread.

Fili looked dubious. "I don't have to go, love."

"Nonsense, I'll live. Go and have fun with your friends." She sat up, pulling her pillow upright to lean against, and ate another bite of lembas. "Go find out what's new in the world of iron."

Fili grinned. "All right, if you're sure. I'll be back later this afternoon, but if you need me, ask Nyrath to send someone to find me. You're seeing Lis this morning, aren't you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "If you see her at breakfast, please ask her to come and meet me here when she's finished. I'll be sick if I go into the dining hall, lembas or no lembas."

* * *

With some of Tauriel's waybread in her stomach, Sigrid was feeling almost like herself again when she heard a tentative knock on the door of her guest room. She opened it to find Lis, looking anxious.

"I hope this is a good time," the young dwarf lass said. "I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, I wasn't sure…"

"Lis, it's the perfect time. Please, come in. And you really do need to stop apologising," Sigrid said with a laugh. Lis looked slightly less anxious, heartened by Sigrid's friendly welcome, and a smile lurked in the corners of her mouth. Sigrid showed her to the table and chairs by the window.

"Thank you for coming here, Lis. There's a reason I couldn't come and find you at breakfast this morning, and it's to do with the research you've been so kind as to offer to help us with. I've been hit with morning sickness. Fili and I are expecting a baby."

"That's… wonderful," Lis said, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's amazing. Congratulations." A moment later, comprehension dawned on her face, and she gave Sigrid an open, genuine smile, her nervousness forgotten. "That's what Grandadad was talking about, when he said I needed tact and discretion, isn't it? You're not telling anyone?"

"That's right," Sigrid said, impressed with Lis's perceptiveness. "We want our families back in Erebor to learn the news from us, rather than from a gossiping traveller. So far the only people who are in on the secret are you and your grandfather, my friend Bennon who helps with my clothes, and a mother and son at the Pick and Shovel Inn, a hundred miles from here." She laughed. "But I'll tell you _that_ story another time."

"And I'll wager you're after information about bairns, pregnancies, what to expect," Lis said, her eyes glazing over as her mind set to work. "Interracial babies. I've never come across anything like that in the archives before." Her eyes suddenly lost their glazed look and flashed back to Sigrid with an excited, cheeky grin. "That doesn't mean there's nothing there. I do love a challenge." She jumped out of her chair and started pacing the room, checking off her fingers as she spoke. "We'll check the genealogies, obviously, and family histories, diaries, that sort of thing. Then there's the healer's medical records, midwives' reports… there has to be something…" She made her way to the door, continuing to mutter to herself under her breath, then stopped, surprised, and looked back at Sigrid.

"Are you coming?"

Sigrid grinned back at her. "Absolutely."

* * *

"Here you go." Lis dumped a dusty tome in front of Sigrid. "Iron Hills genealogies, volume twenty."

Deep beneath Dain's halls, at a workbench in the Iron Hills archives chamber, Sigrid drew in a breath, looking at Lis with a smile full of nerves and hopeful anticipation, and opened the leather cover. Her face fell.

"It's in Dwarvish."

Lis stifled a laugh. "Of course it's in Dwarvish. We're dwarves. Look." She carefully turned over more than half of the large, yellowed pages of the tome, then pulled a loose piece of parchment from the bench and laid it on the open book. "I've written out the runes to look for – 'daughter of men.' Father's names are on the left, mother's names on the right…" Lis slid her finger down a column of runes on the right-hand side of one of the pages, then tapped back on the first entry on the page. Sigrid peered at the runes, her brow contracting in thought.

"Wait, I recognise that one. That says 'Dis,' " she said. She looked up at Lis.

" 'Dis, daughter of Thrain, daughter of Durin,' " Lis quoted. "And underneath it…"

"Fili!" Sigrid exclaimed in delight. "Lis! Is this Fili's birth record?"

"Indeed it is. We have to start somewhere," Lis said, grinning. She pointed back down at the book. "They all follow the same pattern, the dam's name, and her father's name, then the clan name. They'll be daughters of Durin, mostly, but you do sometimes get a Firebeard or Broadbeam from the Blue Mountains. If one of your people was mother to a dwarven baby, Sigrid, the clan would be recorded there, as 'daughter of men.' " She pointed back at the piece of parchment she had written out. "And those are the runes you're looking for."

"Oh, Lis. You're amazing," Sigrid said. "This is incredible."

"Thanks, but don't get too excited just yet," Lis replied modestly. "We've a long way to go."

* * *

They sat side by side in the archive room, skimming down the lists of genealogies for the pivotal words 'daughter of men.' Lis worked swiftly, turning page after page and reaching for the next volume, while Sigrid progressed more slowly. Her heart jumped from time to time, thinking she had found something, but time after time she was disappointed, it turning out merely to be the scribe's bad handwriting. They stopped mid-morning for a break, conscious of keeping Sigrid's nausea at bay, and wandered up to the dining hall for a warm drink and a biscuit, talking and laughing over some of the entries Lis had stumbled on and read out as she'd scanned the pages of the genealogies. They returned and set to again with renewed enthusiasm, but with no better luck, and before she knew it, lunchtime announced itself with an audible grumble in Sigrid's stomach.

"Excuse me," she laughed. "Time to feed the pregnant woman. At least the sickness has worn off, so I'll be fine in the dining room. Would you like to have lunch with me, Lis?"

Lis smiled her shy smile, suddenly bashful again. "I'd like that."

They made their way back up to the dining hall. There were far fewer people around at lunchtime than at supper, and to Sigrid's relief, the honour table was completely vacant, meaning there would be no disapproval from Marni or anyone else about her decision to have lunch with Lis. They helped themselves to platefuls of sandwiches and pies, and headed towards the nearest bench.

"Lady Sigrid! Lis! Please, do come and sit here!" Sigrid recognised Thekk, standing a couple of tables away, waving courteously and gesturing to the seats opposite him. "I had business this morning and had to miss Fili's trip to the mines, but if you'd join me for lunch, I'd think I'd got the better end of the deal."

Sigrid looked at Lis, and the lass grinned and motioned for Sigrid to accept. "Thekk's a good sort. Second cousin on my father's side. He talks too much about iron, but that's all right, so does everyone else here. Go on."

Sigrid laughed, and the two of them sat down, in the jovial company of Fili's friend, to enjoy their lunch.

* * *

Fili had been right. Thekk _could_ tell you everything you wanted to know about iron. Although, Sigrid thought wryly, based on the amount of information she actually _wanted_ to know about iron, she suspected the smallest child in the Iron Hills could do that. Not for the first time she wished that Fili was with her. He had a way of explaining things that made sense, whereas Thekk, though very patient, and only trying to show her kindness by explaining what she was missing out on at the furnaces, used a level of technical jargon that she had to admit was beyond her comprehension. Lis kept trying valiantly to steer the conversation onto other topics, often catching Sigrid's eye with a humorous shrug as her efforts failed, until finally they were interrupted by the approach of Sigrid's friend Bennon, swooping upon her in a crisp, businesslike manner.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but if you've finished lunch, it's time for our appointment." Bennon held out his hand expectantly, and Sigrid looked from him back to Thekk and Lis.

"You'll have to excuse me, Thekk, Lis, but I have an engagement this afternoon. Thanks for keeping me company over lunch. You have an amazing knowledge of smithing, Thekk, and I'm sorry I'm not able to do you more justice as a listener."

Thekk beamed. "Not at all, Sigrid. Don't worry. You'll pick it up in no time."

Bennon wiggled his fingers impatiently. "Thekk, my dear, don't mistake me, I have the highest respect for you, but we have to go. My lady and I have pressing matters of pattern, cut, and finishing to attend to."

Thekk's eyebrows raised in interest. "Oh? Blades or jewellery?"

"Buckskin, you twit," Bennon replied, to everyone's laughter. Lis spoke as Sigrid took Bennon's hand and rose to leave.

"I'll keep looking, and I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Thanks Lis, I really appreciate it. I'll check with Fili, hopefully we can both join you tomorrow." She pulled in a breath, and let it out with a sigh and a grin. "Come on Benni, let's go before you start insulting anyone else."

* * *

Back in her chamber, the first thing Bennon did was rush at Sigrid with a congratulatory hug, and she was touched by his heartfelt expression of good wishes. He gathered himself together with misty eyes, and soon made short work of the final measurements for the breeches, and they shared a cup of tea before tackling the adjustments to her gowns. Bennon was good company, his acerbic wit and irreverent observations keeping her entertained as they worked, and she was grateful that he had made the trip. She suspected that that decision had more to do with Dis's machinations than any inclination for travel on Benni's part, as she was well aware of both Dis's fondness for spectacle and her fierce pride in Erebor and her family honour. Dis would take it as a slight to have her daughter-in-law looking anything less than her best whilst visiting her relatives. Sigrid fervently hoped that word of her arrival at the town gates, red-faced, unbuttoned, and vomiting, wouldn't get back to Dis any time soon.

Benni had also brought a treatment for her skin, and explained how the changes of her pregnancy were affecting it. The treatment smelled divine, and she felt very pampered as he smoothed the creamy concoction over her face.

"This will take out the redness, and ease the irritation. I've got another lotion for your body, if you find that's bothering you, too. You've tanned, my dear, being out so long in the sun, and have a look here." He unbound her hair and twitched a lock in front of her to show her the ends. "It's lightened at least two shades in places. Most becoming. I'll trim the ends, and I'll style it for the feast to make the most of it. When's the feast to be?"

"They haven't told us, Benni. I think they're preparing now," she said. "They didn't know when we'd arrive, so it had to wait."

"Well and good. I'll find out if I can, otherwise just let me know when you hear something."

A knock at the door interrupted them as Benni wiped the last traces of the face mask from Sigrid's skin. A young, breathless messenger, clearly pleased at being chosen for such an important task but also slightly intimidated by his encounter with people of such eminent rank, rattled off a sentence in incomprehensible, high-pitched Dwarvish.

"He says the lord Fili's back from his tour, and he's in Dain's forge," Bennon translated. "I could show you, if you like. I'm meeting Sigbert for a drink later, it's on the way."

Sigrid raised a sly eyebrow. "Sigbert, you say? The 'ham-fisted butcher?' "

Bennon looked down his nose, pursing his lips to keep from smiling. "I may or may not have been a bit hasty in that judgement," he said. He met Sigrid's eyes and grinned. "Shut up."


	24. Chapter 24

Fili held up the billet, gripped firmly in the tongs. "There's hard steel, and soft steel. Hard steel holds a sharp edge well, but it's brittle, and can crack or shatter if it hits something hard. Soft steel is springy, and doesn't shatter, but it doesn't hold an edge well."

He turned behind him and shoved the billet deep into the heat of the forge, and pumped the bellows, keeping a careful eye on the colour of the steel. When he judged it to be ready, he picked up the tongs again and pulled it out of the coals. "This billet has been made with layers of hard and soft steel, folded and forge welded over and over again at the right temperature, so it has the springiness of the soft steel, but will be able to hold an edge. The best of both worlds."

He placed the glowing billet carefully on the face of the anvil, picked up his hammer, and began pounding.

Sigrid, pacing the floor in front of the anvil, sighed, and tossed the file she had been fiddling with back onto the workbench.

"I get it when you explain it," she said. "Thekk was talking about carbon content, and nickel alloys, and flux, and I don't know what else. I couldn't follow it." Trailing her fingertips casually along the cluttered surface of the workbench as she walked, she looked up at the wall above it, seemingly fascinated by the hammers, chisels, punches and files that hung there in ordered rows, then stole a glance back over her shoulder at Fili.

Bennon had pointed the way to Dain's private smithy, and Sigrid hadn't been prepared for what she found there. Fili was making a start on Tilda's hunting knives, hammering away at the anvil with the forge fully fired behind him. He had tied his hair back to keep it out of the way while he worked, and had removed his shirt, instead hanging a loose leather apron about his neck for protection, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. The heat of the forge, and the exertions of his labour, had sweat glistening on the muscles of his shoulders, and every so often he would pause and wipe his forehead with the back of his forearm, still holding the hammer, leaving smudges of charcoal on his face. She had stood immobile for a moment at the sight of him, stunned. He was _beautiful_. His raw masculinity, his strength, his mastery, his focus, all had a sensual quality about them that left her breathless. Then she had realised she was gawping like an awestruck teenager, and had looked away, trying to keep a lid on her emotions like the adult she was. Her eyes, however, cared nothing for her dignity, and insisted on veering back to his body for another look, and another, irresistibly drawn to the sight of him.

Fili appeared not to notice her appraising glances. "Everyone here has been exposed to smithing since the day they were born," he said between hammer blows. "I doubt Thekk's ever met a complete novice before."

Sigrid stopped and faced him, stung by the description. "I'm no novice. You've taught me lots of things."

He grinned, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. "All right then, Miss I'm-No-Novice. Put on that apron and come here." He nodded at a leather apron hanging on the wall.

Sigrid looked at the apron, and back at Fili, and her hand went to her stomach. "Are you sure?"

"I won't let you get hurt, love," he reassured her. "Either of you." He took a step back from the anvil and held his arm out in invitation, the heavy hammer still in his hand. He waited, gazing at her levelly, for her to take up his challenge, and there was something else along with the mischief and amusement in his eyes. Feeling a trifle apprehensive, but determined to prove her point, she took the apron from its hook on the wall and put it over her head, tying the strings in behind, and held Fili's gaze as she stepped inside his arms to the front of the anvil. His braids brushed her cheek as she moved in front of him, and it was only when she let her breath go that she realised she had been holding it. She placed her left hand lightly on his where he held the tongs in his firm grasp, and his body pressed against her as he brought the hammer around for her to hold.

"Don't let go of it," she said in a small voice as her hand closed around the handle in front of his.

"I won't," he said softly.

She began tapping the hammer lightly on the steel, Fili's arm supporting the weight of it. She knew her feeble blows wouldn't cause so much as a dint in the billet, but she didn't care. Fili was so close she could feel his breath on the side of her face and neck, and the masculine scent of his sweat surrounded her, mixed with the acrid, smoky smell of charcoal and hot metal from the forge. It was intoxicating.

"So. What are we doing here?" he murmured.

She tried to concentrate on the hot steel in front of her and the hammer in her hand, well aware of the hazards, but all she could think of was the heat she felt radiating from Fili's body behind her and the feel of hard muscle and sinew in his arms as they moved. He had to know the effect he was having on her. She dragged in a breath: she wouldn't let herself be distracted. "We're drawing the metal. Increasing its length."

He murmured again in her ear. "Mm. And how do you increase its length, Sigrid?"

"Um…" Of course he knew. He always did. She swallowed, her mind full of images conjured by the innuendo, and tried again to focus, still determined to prove her point. "It's a knife. We want to keep the width, and hammer out the depth."

"Very good. And what do we apply to be able to do that?" His murmuring voice dropped even lower as he nuzzled into the hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, the hammer forgotten. His lips closed on her earlobe.

" _Heat."_

She was undone. She turned in his arms, her hands on his slick skin sliding up his arms to his shoulders and around his neck, and pulled him to her mouth.

She heard the tongs and hammer clatter to the ground as he lifted her and stumbled blindly towards the work bench. He sent more tools flying as he swept his arm across the bench to make a space, then sat her on the edge, his hands fumbling with the strings of the apron behind her. He released her mouth to pull it off and toss it aside, and drew back to look at her, his blue eyes dark with desire, then reached down and started to slide his hands slowly up the outside of her legs, taking the hem of her skirts with them.

"Fili," she whispered. "We're in the forge."

"I know," he replied throatily as he pushed her skirts up past her knees and stepped between them. "Tell me to stop, and I will." He pressed his lips to her neck and began unbuttoning her blouse, reaching inside to close his hand around her breast. "Do you want me to stop?"

Her eyes rolled shut and her hands went to the muscles of his shoulders.

"No."

* * *

Fili held up the billet, gripped firmly in the tongs. "There's hard steel, and soft steel. Hard steel holds a sharp edge well, but it's brittle, and can crack or shatter if it hits something hard. Soft steel is springy, and doesn't shatter, but it doesn't hold an edge well."

He turned behind him and shoved the billet deep into the heat of the forge, and pumped the bellows, keeping an eye on the colour of the steel, all the while conscious of Sigrid's eyes on him. He almost missed the correct temperature in his distraction, and quickly picked up the tongs again and pulled the billet out of the coals, refocusing. "This billet has been made with layers of hard and soft steel, folded and forge welded over and over again at the right temperature, so it has the springiness of the soft steel, but will be able to hold an edge. The best of both worlds."

He placed the glowing billet carefully on the face of the anvil, picked up his hammer, and began pounding.

His trip out to the mines had been fascinating, but time and again he had found himself wishing Sigrid had been with him, and he realised that his pleasure in things increased when he shared them with her. He had always loved explaining things to her. She was quick and intuitive, and would have made an excellent jewellery smith, had her interests run in that direction, but he knew they didn't. She took an interest in smithing because she knew it was important to him, no more, and no less, and he loved her for that. She had slipped into the forge like a breath of fresh air soon after he'd sent the message telling her he was back, her eyes bright, and it had taken him a moment to realise she was flustered, and another to realise why. She was pacing up and down in front of him, toying with a file and pretending to look everywhere but at him, but it was evident that she found the sight of him working to be… pleasing. It was endearing, amusing, gratifying, and above all, it was very arousing.

"I get it when you explain it," she said. "Thekk was talking about carbon content, and nickel alloys, and flux, and I don't know what else. I couldn't follow it."

He knew he had only to wait, and… there it was. Her eyes were drawn to him again, and Fili realised something else about himself. Sigrid's thoughts were sometimes a mystery to him still, but her emotions, her desires… those were written in her eyes as plain as day and he could read them like a book. She wanted him, and she was doing her best not to show it. He didn't know why. He knew she wasn't afraid of desire – there had certainly been times in the past when she'd grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall – but something else was going on today. He could simply ask, but it was far more entertaining to wait and see if she'd give in. Especially when he started applying a little friendly persuasion.

"Everyone here has been exposed to smithing since the day they were born," he said between hammer blows. "I doubt Thekk's ever met a complete novice before."

Sigrid stopped and faced him, taking his bait. "I'm no novice. You've taught me lots of things."

He grinned. Time to up the ante. "All right then, Miss I'm-No-Novice. Put on that apron and come here." He nodded at a leather apron hanging on the wall.

Sigrid looked at the apron, and back at Fili, and her hand went to her stomach. "Are you sure?"

"I won't let you get hurt, love," he reassured her. "Either of you." He took a step back from the anvil and held his arm out in invitation, the heavy hammer still in his hand. He knew she'd rise to the challenge. She would never back away from proving her point, despite her apprehensions.

She took the apron from its hook on the wall and put it over her head, tying the strings in behind, and held Fili's gaze as she stepped inside his arms to the front of the anvil. The tension was already acute, but then, as she moved closer, the most delicious perfume surrounded him, and the temptation to start kissing her to find out where it came from was overwhelming. He fought to hold still, although his braids brushed tantalisingly against her cheek. She placed her left hand lightly on his where he held the tongs, and he almost shivered. He brought the hammer around for her to hold, taking the opportunity to press his body close.

"Don't let go of it," she said in a small voice as her hand closed around the handle in front of his.

"I won't," he said softly.

She began tapping the hammer lightly on the steel while he supported the weight of it, fairy taps that wouldn't make a dint in butter. He didn't care. The scent coming from the side of her face and neck was intoxicating, and he breathed it in.

"So. What are we doing here?" he murmured.

He felt her drag in a breath. "We're drawing the metal. Increasing its length."

It was impossible to resist the innuendo. He murmured again in her ear. "Mm. And how do you increase its length, Sigrid?"

"Um…" She swallowed. He could feel it, how close she was to giving in, to turning in his arms and letting her desire take over. The suspense was exquisite. "It's a knife. We want to keep the width, and hammer out the depth."

"Very good. And what do we apply to be able to do that?" He could hold out no longer. He nuzzled into the hair behind her ear, to drink her in, to surround himself with that incredible scent. She leaned into him, the hammer forgotten, and he closed his lips on her earlobe.

" _Heat."_

She turned in his arms, her hands on his slick skin sliding up his arms to his shoulders and around his neck, and pulled him to her mouth.

He let the tongs and hammer clatter to the ground as he lifted her and stumbled blindly towards the work bench. He sent more tools flying as he swept his arm across the bench to make a space, then sat her on the edge, his hands fumbling with the strings of the apron behind her. He released her mouth to pull it off and toss it aside, and drew back to look at her, then reached down and started to slide his hands slowly up the outside of her legs, taking the hem of her skirts with them.

"Fili," she whispered. "We're in the forge."

"I know," he replied throatily as he pushed her skirts up past her knees and stepped between them. "Tell me to stop, and I will." If it made her uncomfortable, he'd stop, immediately, and take her back to their chamber. And he would be as disappointed as he'd ever been in his life. He pressed his lips to her neck and unbuttoned her blouse, sliding his hand inside to cup her breast, and asked her again, just to be sure. "Do you want me to stop?"

Her eyes rolled shut and her hands went to the muscles of his shoulders.

"No."


	25. Chapter 25

Fili made a satisfied humming noise low in his throat, his lips travelling down Sigrid's neck. "Mmm. Good. I would have been so disappointed."

Sigrid gave a low chuckle. "Is it every dwarf lad's dream, then, a willing lass in the forge?"

"A dwarf lass in the forge is more likely to tell you to hand over the hammer and get out of the way."

"Well, they're missing out, that's all I can say," she murmured, with a gasp as Fili's lips found the tip of her breast. His tongue swirled around it gently, mindful of her tenderness, then trailed its way across to its partner. Sigrid ran her hands over Fili's shoulders to his upper back, feeling the movements of his muscles under his skin as he opened her blouse wider in front. He drew back to gaze at her in appreciation, his hands gently sliding into her waist, and then stopped in dismay.

"Fili?" Sigrid whispered, her hand clutching at her blouse. "What is it? Don't tell me someone's coming?"

Fili looked sheepish. "No, it's not that. Folks around here know better than to interrupt a dwarf when he's forging. No, I'm getting charcoal all over you. I'm sorry, love."

Sigrid relaxed in relief, and looked down at the sooty smear on the side of her breast, barely one inch by two, where Fili's thumb had grazed her skin. She shrugged, propped her arms on the bench behind her, and leaned back, kicking off her shoes to caress him with her stockinged foot and doing her best to give what she hoped was a seductive look.

"Well, you have to expect to get branded if you want to bed a blacksmith," she said. "I hope it won't be the last." She sat forward again and reached for the string of Fili's leather apron where it was knotted at his waist. She grinned at her success as he hastily pulled the knot undone and flung the apron aside, stepping closer between her legs, and she slid her hands down his bare chest, revelling in the feel of him. Further down, his shaft was pressing firmly against his breeches, and she reached down to caress him through the fabric, and lightly stroked her fingernails up and down his length. When she looked back up and met his eyes, the heat in them made her catch her breath.

"What you do to me, Sigrid mine," he whispered hoarsely. He leaned back in to nuzzle into her hair and neck, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, and one hand slipped between her legs to press through her linens against her sex. He started working her gently, methodically, expertly, and she clung to his shoulders as her back arched in response, melting into his touch.

"Mmm, what you do to me, Fili mine," she whispered. She breathed in, deeply, and pulled back to look at him, and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You know, I believe I could learn to like smithing after all."

* * *

He chuckled softly, and leaned in to her neck, seeking again the sweet fragrance that he found there, and ran both hands up her thighs to take hold of her linens. "I've been telling you for years how much fun it is, love," he murmured. "Now do you believe me?" She lifted her hips as he slid her linens down, and he stepped out of the way as they dropped to the floor, then he slipped his hand into the softness between her thighs once again.

"Mmm. You make a persuasive argument, my love," she breathed, and she tugged open the drawstring of his breeches and reached inside to caress him. He groaned, and pulled her hips closer to the edge of the bench. Built to dwarven scale, the workbench was exactly the height he needed it to be, and for one brief distracted moment he wondered if it had been designed that way on purpose. Then Sigrid guided the head of his shaft to where she wanted it, and rubbed it against her, and he groaned again, all thoughts driven from his mind but for those of his sweet wife's eyes and her hands and the sound of the soft gasps and moans she was making, and the way her fingers felt on his body and in his hair, and the scent of her, and the pleasure they were giving to each other, as he eased into her wet heat and began moving.

His hands curved around her hips as he drove into her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she leaned on one arm to brace herself, the other clinging around his neck. He wasn't going to last: the look in her beautiful eyes, fixed on his with such passion, their location, even the very position he was taking her in, all had him inflamed to such an extent that it was all he could do to hold on. He ground into her, angling her body to drive against her bud, and her head fell back, and he felt her walls convulsing around his shaft as she cried out, and he was lost. He spent himself inside her, surging again and again, his heart pounding in his chest, then he pulled her body close and collapsed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and skirts and dishevelled hair.

He slid his hand up her neck to her cheek and brought her face to his to kiss her lips, still trembling, panting between kisses, and rested his forehead against hers.

"Amrâlimê. Beloved. That was…" he whispered. He had no more words.

"It was, wasn't it?" she whispered back. "And here I thought smithing wasn't for me."

He grinned as he nuzzled into her neck, and held her close as his heart beat slowed. Eventually she shifted beside him, and he put his arm around her and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. They sat in silence, savouring the afterglow of their passion, until Fili spoke softly.

"Sigrid love. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my love," she replied.

"When you came into the forge…"

"Ye-es," she said slowly, prompting him to finish.

"You wanted me."

She lifted her head to look at him, and he could see the lingering echoes of her desire in the intensity of her gaze. "Of course I wanted you. No-one in their right mind wouldn't have wanted you, Fili."

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and gazed back at her, his voice even softer. "Why didn't you just say so, love?"

"You were working. I didn't want to interrupt you," she said simply.

"You didn't want to _interrupt_ me?" he repeated, surprised, and then he laughed. "Is that all, truly?"

"I was thinking of my work at home. I can't say that I'd be very impressed if you came in and started trying to seduce me while I was, I don't know, in the Dale sewing circle, or feeding soup to an invalid or something." She thought for a moment, then shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Although I do hate sewing."

He chuckled and snuggled her closer. "I'll make a note. Sewing circle, yes; invalids and soup, no."

"It would liven up the meetings," she said with a laugh, and then she paused, and angled him a sly look from under her lashes. "You didn't seem to mind too much, though, with your 'How do we make it longer, Sigrid,' and your 'I'm all sweaty and handsome, come here and let me tease you, Sigrid.' Admit it."

"I do admit it, gladly and shamelessly," he said. "I loved it." He leaned in for a kiss. Then his eyes narrowed, a wry smirk making his dimples pop in his cheeks. "'Sweaty and handsome,' you say? You liked watching me. Admit that."

Sigrid didn't answer immediately, but rose onto her knees, gathering up her skirts, and swung her leg over his to straddle his lap. With another hum of satisfaction he ran his hands into her open blouse at her waist, and saw again the smudge of charcoal on the side of her breast. He licked his thumb and rubbed it off, and leaned forward to soothe the reddened skin with his lips.

"Fili, my love, Mahal himself couldn't have looked more glorious," she murmured, her fingers in his hair. "Baby number three, _definitely_ being conceived in the forge."

* * *

They had to head back. Fili banked the coals of the forge, and they tidied themselves up as best they could, brushing off the dust of the floor and rubbing at the other charcoal marks on their skin, and made their way back to their room to clean up properly, hand in hand, on the lookout to try to avoid being seen by any curious eyes. Once bathed and dried and re-braided into a semblance of respectability, Sigrid laid out some of the clothes Bennon had brought her, remembering Marni's sneer of disdain at her appearance last night. She chose a simple gown of cream silk, with seamed piecing under the bust that drew the eye away from her stomach, flowing around her waist at either side and curving over her backside into a full skirt, modest in front but with a v-shaped back revealing a triangle of skin from her neck almost to the small of her back. Unlike her other gowns, it had hardly needed any adjustment from Bennon that afternoon, cut as it already was to accommodate her curves, on the bias of the fabric, and she felt confident that no-one could suspect she was pregnant from her silhouette. Fili, too, looked very dapper in his embroidered shirt as he grinned and held out his arm to take her to supper, and together they headed out to the dining hall, the two of them the only ones any the wiser about what they'd been up to that afternoon.

All eyes turned their way as they entered and passed through the crowd to the top of the hall. They made their courtesies to Dain and Madlen, who were already seated, and a moment later Marni and Nyrath joined them. Marni didn't make eye contact, but as he nodded his welcome Nyrath looked Sigrid up and down, and his eyes narrowed, making Sigrid feel vaguely unsettled. She hadn't done anything to annoy him, as far as she knew, and she wondered if perhaps Marni had been spreading her spite again. She was glad once more that she was seated away from the two of them, at the other end of the honour table.

"How'd you like my forge, Fili?" Dain bellowed down the table past Madlen and Sigrid, between mouthfuls of food. "I haven't used it in years. Was everything up to scratch?"

Fili leaned closer to Sigrid as he replied to Dain, his arm along the back of her chair and the tips of his fingers softly caressing the exposed skin of her back. Sigrid looked down at her food and tried to concentrate on eating.

"Dain, it was the finest forge I've ever had the pleasure of working in, without a doubt," Fili said smoothly, straight-faced. "Sigrid thought so too, didn't you, love?"

Dain beamed, then looked at Sigrid, surprised and pleased. "He's got you interested in smithing at last, lass? I'm pleased to hear it."

"Yes, he has," Sigrid said, laying down her knife and fork and turning towards Dain, amusement curving the corners of her mouth as she joined Fili's game. "Only very recently, though. I'd love to get back in there, if we have the time." Fili's fingers were at the nape of her neck, teasing loose a tendril of her hair to play with. He twirled it gently around his finger, then let it unravel as he slid the back of his finger down Sigrid's spine. She drew in a sharp breath.

Madlen surprised them all by speaking up in her soft, deferential voice. "I'm glad you found the forge acceptable. We may not have the wealth of Erebor, but we can hold our own. As I hope you'll see again, when we present your feast." She laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Dain, dear, if you'll make the official announcement?"

"Yes, yes. Right you are, dear," he blustered. He raised his voice to boom out to the furthest corners of the hall. "Feast, everyone. Day after tomorrow."

Despite the sudden delighted hubbub and scattered applause from the crowd in front of them, Sigrid didn't miss Madlen's sigh beside her, nor Marni's disapproving "Oh, Adad," from the other end of the table. Dain, however, remained oblivious to his family's chagrin, and tucked back in to his food.

* * *

As they finished their meal and prepared to leave, Fili noticed Lis with a group of dwarf lasses hovering at the side of the hall, looking up at Sigrid and whispering. The lasses were clearly urging Lis to approach Sigrid at the honour table, and Lis was equally clearly quite reluctant to do so. He leaned in to whisper in Sigrid's ear.

"I think the lasses there want to speak to you, love."

Sigrid looked up. The lasses nudged Lis and whispered all the more as they saw Sigrid look at them.

"It can't be our research, Lis would keep that confidential. I wonder what it is?" she murmured. She smiled at Fili as she rose from her chair. "Best I go and find out." Fili watched her go, smiling at her retreating back and taking a moment to appreciate the way her dress clung to the curves of her hips and swayed as she walked. He watched as Lis introduced Sigrid to her friends, and then turned back to the others at the honour table.

Marni was berating her father in a heated undertone about his lack of respect for protocol, while Madlen tried to calm her down. Dain seemed unconcerned by the tirade, and Fili guessed it was probably not the first time Marni had given him such a lecture. Nyrath, on the other hand, was leaning back lazily in his chair, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the group of Lis and her friends, where Sigrid was talking animatedly. He looked up as Fili pulled up a chair next to him, and quickly sat up straighter in his chair.

"Fili. How were the smelters?" he asked.

"Impressive," Fili replied. "I picked up some billets for a pair of hunting knives. The quality is outstanding."

Nyrath grunted his assent, and his eyes returned to the crowd. Away from the lasses, Fili noted.

"Sigrid didn't go with you?" Nyrath said.

"No, she had a couple of things to do today. Listen, Nyrath, I want to talk about that lad I sent to you. His brother is one of the thieves Nib caught, out at the Pick and Shovel."

Nyrath sniffed and directed his gaze back to Fili. "I don't know why you bother with such people, Fili. They're beneath you."

Fili frowned. "I don't think anyone's beneath me, Nyrath. The lad seems a good sort, on first acquaintance anyway. Regardless, though, he's entitled to see his brother. I'll accompany him if you have any concerns about it."

Nyrath nodded, his eyes drifting once again to the crowd. "Of course, Fili. Whatever you think best."

Fili studied Nyrath for a moment, a crease between his brows. Then he stirred. "Good. I'll take care of that tomorrow. Thanks Nyrath." A moment later, Sigrid returned to the honour table, her eyes bright.

"Hello, Nyrath. Fili, you'll never guess. I've been invited to a Bride's Night tomorrow night."

Beside him, Fili felt Nyrath prick up his ears. "That wouldn't be Onar's betrothed, would it? I know he's asked for leave," he said in his deep voice. "What's her name?"

"Jorunn," Sigrid replied. "They'll be wedded at the feast. Isn't that romantic?"

"Very," Fili said, with a smile for her starry eyes and sentimental heart. He moved around the table and took Sigrid's arm in his to return to their chamber, with a nod to Nyrath, who nodded back, his head held high.


	26. Chapter 26

The morning again saw the return of the washed out, dull feeling of queasiness in Sigrid's stomach. Mindful of the need to keep some lembas for their return journey, Fili fetched some ginger tea and dry toast from the kitchens, and insisted on Sigrid staying in bed to eat it, not letting her get up until she had convinced him that the nausea had eased. Fraeg had been right, the ginger did help, as did the toast, with her stomach the better for not being empty, and a bit of colour had returned to Sigrid's cheeks as they made their way down to the archives room to meet Lis an hour or so later.

Lis looked up from her bench as they came in, where she was poring over a large, yellowed book, and beckoned them over.

"Hello, Sigrid, Fili. You've come at the perfect time. I've got something to show you."

"Have you found a 'daughter of men?' " Sigrid asked in anticipation.

"Not quite," Lis said. She slid her book aside and reached for another volume laid open beside her, and ran her finger down the page to a record half-way down. "Look."

Sigrid peered at the entry, and her face fell. "It's blank." She looked at Lis with her brows drawn together, uncomprehending. Then slowly, her eyes widened as she grasped the implications. "Is it blank… for a reason?"

"My thoughts exactly," Lis said emphatically. "Was there something they didn't want to record about this lass…" She looked at the page again. "Bekkhildr? Something they wanted to hide?"

"Bekkhildr," Fili said, peering over Lis's shoulder. "That's not a Dwarvish name."

Sigrid looked from Lis to Fili, and back again. "It means 'battle by the brook.' It's an old name, very old. But I've certainly heard of it."

"Jari, son of Loni, son of Durin, is the father, and the child's name is Buri," Lis read from the record. "All extremely Dwarvish." Her eyes brightened, and she flipped to the front of the volume and tapped it with her finger. "This dates to about three hundred and fifty years ago, just after Gror founded his lordship. Dwarves and men had been living in these parts for centuries before that, though." She slid the book aside and drew forward the large tome she'd been studying when they came in. "These are the healer records from that period. Not everyone's as meticulous as my grandfather about keeping their notes, but it's worth a try." Pointing to a stack of bound parchments to her right, she added, "I've also pulled what diaries we have from those years, to see if there are any mentions of this Bekkhildr. They're here. As well as that, we need to keep scanning the birth records for other candidates. Where would you like to start?"

Sigrid and Fili turned to each other and grinned. "You're a marvel, Lis," Sigrid said. "I'll keep searching the birth records. At least I know the runes I'm looking for."

"You keep on with the healer records, Lis. I'll take the diaries," Fili said. "That ought to be fun."

* * *

Fili was hunched over the bench in what looked like a most uncomfortable position, running his finger slowly down the pages of the diaries with a frown on his face. Sigrid watched him for a moment from the corner of her eye as he sighed and shifted on his stool to another position, seemingly equally uncomfortable. He wasn't suited to bookwork, she thought with a rush of tenderness. It was time for a break. She got up from her own stool to stand behind him, slid her hands up his back, and started gently kneading his shoulders.

He didn't say anything, but underneath her fingers she felt the tension in his muscles ease immediately, and he reached up to clasp one of her hands, turning his head to kiss it.

"Break time, my love," she murmured. "You look like you need one, and I need to eat before I get hungry."

Fili span around on his stool, suddenly concerned. "I'm sorry, love, I should have thought of that. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just need to keep eating," she reassured him. "How are the diaries?"

"Mind-numbingly boring," he said with a yawn, stretching his arms. "I was hoping for scandal and intrigue, and it's mostly descriptions of the weather and what people had for dinner. It's making me hungry, to be honest."

Sigrid laughed. "Come on then, let's go and eat something."

* * *

After the refreshment of some tea and biscuits, they were making their way out of the wide, double timber doors of the dining hall to return to the archive room and their search, when Sigrid heard someone calling Fili's name. They turned to find Will hovering in a side corridor, evidently hoping to chance upon them. Fili strode forward and took his arm.

"Will, I'm glad to see you. How do you fare?"

"Well enough, thank you, Fili, Sigrid," Will said, his face full of worry. "I just want to see my brother. Is this a good time? They wouldn't let me get a message to you, so I thought I'd find you and ask…"

Will's concerned eyes went from Fili to Sigrid, then fell on Lis. Sigrid saw them widen, the concern fading under a thinly-veiled look of surprise and wonder – and admiration.

Fili frowned, oblivious to Will's reaction. "Who wouldn't let you? The guards? I'm sorry about that, Will, that's odd. Another thing I'll need to sort out." He looked at Sigrid and Lis. "I'd like to take Will to see his brother, but only if it's all right with you. Can you spare me for an hour or so?"

"Of course we can spare you, my love," Sigrid said, a knowing smile curving the corners of her mouth. "But where are my manners? Will, this is my friend Lis, who's helping us with some research in the archives. Lis, this is Willgeir. We met on the road. Fili's helping him with a family matter."

"Will. My brother's in prison," Will blurted out, smiling and shaking Lis's hand. He held her hand for a moment longer, then, realising what he had said, dropped it, and blushed and stammered. "I mean, I'm pleased to meet you, Lis. Wal's not a criminal. Well, he _is_ a criminal, he was arrested for thieving, but he's not like that, not really. Not usually." Will frowned and looked down at his hands in embarrassment.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Lis said softly. "Some bigger than others. It takes a big person to stick by someone when they make a big mistake."

Will looked up from his hands, still abashed, but pleased and humbled. "Yes. I mean, thank you."

Fili clapped Will on the shoulder. "It shouldn't take long," he said. "Come on, Will, let's be off." Will followed Fili as he set off down the corridor, then looked back over his shoulder at Lis.

"It was nice to meet you, Lis," he said.

"It was nice to meet you, too, Will," she replied.

* * *

Sigrid thoughts were more occupied with matchmaking, than research, as she and Lis resumed their work in the archives room. She was sliding her finger down the same column for the third time, seeing nothing but possible scenarios that would bring Will and Lis together, when her attention was abruptly brought back to the task at hand by Lis's voice.

"Sigrid. I've found something."

Her head flew up from her book. Lis slid her sheaf of medical parchments down the bench towards Sigrid and she grasped it eagerly, her heart pounding, her hands shaking, and she stared the paragraph of incomprehensible Dwarvish runes that Lis pointed out.

"Oh, Lis. What does it say?"

"These are Healer Yngvi's notes. We're in luck – he was a conscientious note-taker. There are no names, of course, but he's written up his treatment of… what are his words…" Lis leaned in and quoted from the text. " 'A young woman experiencing an occurrence at the one time utterly commonplace, yet also most unprecedented, and of particular interest to her husband.' A bit flowery, but he was trying to be delicate, I think," she said in an aside. "He writes that he saw the patient in April, July, and October, and finally in November, when she was 'safely delivered of a joyous burthen, four pounds six ounces, with no complications.' November matches the entry in the birth records. It has to be our Bekkhildr."

"Four pounds six? So small," Sigrid said slowly, looking up from the book, her eyes unfocused and far away. She felt her excitement draining away, and she shook herself and glanced back at Lis, stricken with worry. "Babies that small rarely survive among my people, Lis. I know dwarf bairns are small, but still…" She swallowed, and forced herself to ask her next question. "How could we be sure the baby lived?"

"We could start trawling the death records, but it would take a long time," Lis replied. "We have no reference to narrow down the time frame. But there's another kind of record that we could try. We could simply ask."

"Ask?" Sigrid said, puzzled. "Ask who?"

"According to the birth records, Buri was born about three hundred and fifty years ago. If he survived, and he lived a normal lifespan, that would bring him within living memory. I think we should pay a visit to the elders."

* * *

With Fili and Will still absent, Sigrid lunched with Lis and her friends, which turned out to be a jovial affair, and Sigrid found herself looking forward to spending more time with them at Jorunn's Bride's Night later that evening. She was aware of some cold glares coming her way from the honour table, where Marni and Nyrath ate alone, but she didn't care. There were no protocols to dictate where she ate at lunchtime, or with whom, and she wasn't about to exchange the laughing ease and good humour of the dwarf lasses for an unpleasant half-hour of Marni's selfishness and scorn. Nyrath, too, was again glancing her way with narrowed eyes, making the prospect of sitting at the honour table even less appealing. Sigrid resolved to ask Fili if she'd unwittingly offended him in some way, then put it out of her mind, enjoying the company of the lasses until it was time to return to work.

The elders of the dwarves of the Iron Hills, where either through frailty or illness were not able to be cared for by their families, spent their days in a pleasant, panelled room deep within the earth, cosy with rugs, blankets and a warm fire, and with a dedicated group of healers on hand to attend to their needs. Sigrid and Lis found the dozen or so elderly dwarves and dams variously chatting, snoozing, or nibbling at their lunch as they made their way quietly into the room and were received by the chief healer.

"Come in, you're most welcome," the healer said as they explained the purpose of their visit. He called to two white-haired dwarves at a nearby table, huddled over a chess board. "Lofar, Frosti, if you have a minute, these lasses would like a word."

"Hang on, hang on," one of the dwarves said irritably, not looking up from the board. He slowly stroked his long, straggly beard with his wizened hand, staring silently at the carved wooden pieces, then suddenly his eyes lit up, and he picked one up and triumphantly banged it down into position. "Checkmate. That's fifty-two to forty seven, Loaf."

"Forty eight," Lofar grumbled. They turned to Sigrid and Lis, and the old dwarves' eyes brightened as they fell on the two of them.

"Come, sit down," Frosti said, gesturing to the seats next to him. "You're Fraeg's granddaughter, aren't you? What can we do for you?"

"Yes. My name's Lis. This is Sigrid," Lis said, taking a seat. "We're trying to find out what we can about a dwarf who was born about three hundred and fifty years ago, Buri, son of Jari, son of Loni. We wondered if anyone here may have known him."

"Buri, son of Jari, son of Loni," Frosti repeated. "Never heard of him. Loaf?"

"Buri," Lofar echoed. "Wasn't he that smith from the Blue Mountains? The one that blew up your cousin's forge?"

"No, you old fool, that was One-Eyed Buni, son of Billing." Frosti shook his head regretfully. "A bad business, that. Singed his remaining eyebrow."

Sigrid gave Lis a look of amused exasperation. The waggish banter of the two old dwarves was entertaining, but it didn't look very likely to further their research. She was relieved to hear a voice call out from behind them.

"Don't listen to these two clods, lass. I knew Buri, son of Jari. He lived like a hermit, out beyond the town walls." They turned to see a tiny, wizened dwarrowdam, her sparse white hair braided and neatly wound about her head, speaking from a wheeled chair. She tapped on the arm of the chair and pointed towards the group at the table with a gnarled hand until one of the attendants wheeled her forward.

"Who was this Buri, Val?" Frosti said. "How come I never heard of him?"

"Maybe you would have, if you'd actually talked to people instead of spending your whole life down a mine or in a tavern," Val scolded.

Frosti winked at Sigrid. "It's true. I did," he said. "And what's more, I'd do it again."

Sigrid smiled at Frosti's quip, and turned back to Val. "Please, Val, what can you tell me about Buri?"

"He lived out on a farm _,_ of all things, if you can believe that," Val said with a shudder. "Right out in the open. He had some odd ways, and no mistake, but a kinder soul you'd never wish to meet. I used to take food out to him sometimes, after his old adad died. Quite partial to my apple pies, he was," she said with a modest smile. "There were not many that took the trouble to get to know him, but I never heard a bad word about him from those that did. It was about a hundred years ago, now, when he died."

The calculation only took Sigrid a fraction of a second. Two hundred and fifty, give or take a few years. Buri had lived, and had lived long. A dwarven lifespan.

"Did he ever mention his mother?" Lis asked quietly.

"Not that I recall," Val said, her faded eyes suddenly alert, and looking from Lis to Sigrid. "Why do you ask?"

Sigrid drew in a breath. Would it be betraying Buri to reveal his parentage, if he hadn't seen fit to do so himself? If there had been a scandal at the time, it had clearly been forgotten. Would it be wrong to bring it up again? "We're doing some research, on family histories," she said, at last. "We'd like to know more about Buri's family."

Val's eyes were uncomfortably astute, and Sigrid had the feeling they had seen straight through her prevarication. "I didn't know his mother," the old dwarrowdam said. "I assumed she'd died."

Lis glanced at Sigrid. "We don't believe she lived very long."

Val gave one more shrewd look between Sigrid and Lis, and then beckoned Sigrid to lean closer.

"Tell me, in truth, lass. You think Buri's amad was one of your lot, don't you? A daughter of men? Oh, I may be old, but I'm not stupid," she said, in response to Sigrid's look of surprise. "It would explain a lot."

Sigrid decided to tell Val the truth. "We're fairly certain she was, Val," she said quietly. "She's listed in the birth records as Bekkhildr, a name of my people, and her clan name is blank."

"That _does_ explain a lot," Val said, her eyes wide. She shook her head slowly in wonder, then looked back suddenly at Sigrid. "I know who you are. You're married to Dis's lad, from Erebor, aren't you?"

Sigrid smiled at Val, knowing she'd put it all together. "I am. And I'm very grateful to you for telling me about Buri."

Val smiled back. "He was as happy and healthy as any mother's son ever was, lass. As I'm sure your bairns will be, never fear." She sat back in her wheeled chair, satisfied with her detective work, and noticed Lofar and Frosti trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. She started tapping on the arm rest of her chair.

"Where's that attendant?" she said. "I want them to find me some apples. I'm going to make a pie."


	27. Chapter 27

The Iron Hills prison cells were set away from Dain's halls, deep within the hillside in another mined-out cavern across town. Fili led Will through the busy streets to the towering iron gates of the prison, where two of Nyrath's guards stood sentry in leather armour, red-faced and sweaty under the afternoon sun. Recognising Fili immediately, one of the guards unhooked a set of enormous keys from his belt and unlocked the gate, and the other hauled one side open to let them pass. They were met inside by the jailor, a grizzled, weather-beaten dwarf with a long ginger beard and an eyepatch covering the socket of one eye.

"Hornburi. It's good to see you again," Fili said, striding forward to clasp the old dwarf's arm. "How do you fare?"

"Why, if it isn't the young master himself," Hornburi replied, the grin underneath his whiskers only detectable by the way his cheeks rounded above them. "I heard you were going to come by. I'm faring well enough, as you can see. How is your dear mother, lad? Does she remember old Hornburi?"

"She's not likely to forget you, Hornburi, not after what you did for us. She sends you her fondest regards."

The old dwarf's cheeks rounded once more, his one good eye twinkling genially. Hornburi had been with Fili's father the day he died, part of the squad hunting a pack of orcs that had been raiding and killing livestock and people alike in the outlying farms. The usually witless creatures had managed to ambush the squad, killing three dwarven guards outright before they knew what was happening, and Fili's father had received a mortal blow while taking out their leader. Hornburi had risked his own life, and lost his eye, in dragging Farli's bleeding body to safety before he and the remainder of the squad managed to defeat the pack. With the hindsight of the battle for the Mountain, Fili suspected orcs from Gundabad, larger and wilier than their kin, had orchestrated the attack, but there was no way of confirming his suspicions, and in either case it took nothing away from Hornburi's valiant efforts to try to save his father, nor from the small consolation he was able to provide of returning the bodies of the dead undespoiled, for a decent burial.

"I'm glad to hear it, laddie. You're here to see one of the thieves, are you not? Nyrath mentioned it to me yesterday, when he told me the trials had been brought forward."

"The trials are brought forward?" Fili said, his brows drawing together in a frown.

"Aye. They're scheduled for tomorrow morning, all three," Hornburi said with a shrug. "I don't see the urgency myself."

Fili glanced at Will. The lad's face was ashen.

"Tomorrow morning? " he said weakly. "How am I to prepare a defence? There's no time."

"Which is the point, I think," Fili replied, still frowning. He shook his head slowly, his voice stern. "Something's going on here. That's not justice. Please, take us through to Walcott, Hornburi. We need to speak to him."

* * *

Hornburi led Fili and WIll through a maze of corridors, unlocking gate after gate and nodding to various guards on duty along the way, before sitting them down at a small wooden table inside a locked cell.

"Wait here," he said. "The prisoner will be brought in shortly." He nodded to Fili and disappeared through a door in the opposite wall. The door opened again a few minutes later to admit Walcott, thin and dark, his hands bound with rope and a look of wary, bitter defensiveness on his face, escorted by two guards. As Walcott looked up, his eyes fell on Will, and Fili saw the bitterness fall away, and for a moment his face looked as artless and open as his younger brother's.

"Will!" he exclaimed. "What on earth? Are you all right?" He lifted his hands to reach out and embrace his brother, then looked at them in surprise when they didn't move, as if he'd forgotten they were bound. Suddenly the shutters on his face fell back down, and he growled. "What do you think you're doing? You shouldn't be here." The guards manoeuvred Walcott into the seat opposite them at the table. As he sat down, his eyes fell on Fili, and his expression changed, part resentment, and part fear. "Why is _he_ here?" he snapped.

Will reached across the table and laid his hand on Walcott's bound fists. "Wal, please. Fili's here to help," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "How did this happen, Wal? You need to tell us everything."

"He's here to _help_? He's the reason I'm in here," Walcott snarled.

"You're the reason you're in here, Walcott," Fili said calmly. "Listen to me. I'm nowhere near forgiving you for pulling a knife on my wife, but there's something very strange going on here, with your trial being brought forward, and I'll not sit by while an injustice is done in front of me. So I suggest you listen to your brother, and start talking."

* * *

Fili called for Hornburi an hour and a half later, and when he arrived, drew him to the side of the room.

"He's just a petty thief, Hornburi, young and gullible," he said quietly, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Taft is the one who planned everything, he and the other man, Hawk. Walcott says he came to the Hills to earn enough coin to set up a shop, and he fell in with Taft one night in a tavern. He says Taft promised him he could get him the coin he needed, and he got drawn in, bit by bit. It's an old story, but I'm inclined to believe it. Will's corroborated a lot of it, and I've got no reason to doubt his word, even if he is his brother. Walcott's not blameless, far from it, but he's entitled to a fair hearing, Hornburi. I don't see why that should be compromised." He pursed his lips and shook his head, making his braids sway back and forth. "I don't understand it. What's to gain in targeting a petty thief?"

Hornburi considered Fili's words for a moment, nodding, his eye on the two brothers sitting at the table. "You're right. This cutpurse is not much of a target," he said. He looked back at Fili. "But you are."

Fili's frown deepened. "What are you saying, Hornburi?"

The old jailor leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'm saying the harm's not necessarily directed at him, laddie. Who else knows you've taken an interest in this case?"

Fili shrugged, his head moving slowly from side to side slightly as he thought out loud. "Dain, Madlen, Nyrath, Marni, Nib and his squad… the guards here…"

"My guards only found out today," Hornburi reminded him. "And I'd trust them with my life. In any case, they don't have the sort of influence that changes trial dates. I'd be looking to someone among the others you've named. Someone who bears you a grudge."

"Who among them would bear me a grudge?" Fili said in puzzled disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed, and he drew in a deep breath. "On second thoughts, I can think of one who might." He took another breath, then straightened and held his arm out to Hornburi. "I'm in your debt once again, my friend, for both your help and your counsel. But now we've got to go and see these boys' aunt. If Walcott's to have any chance of receiving justice tomorrow, we're going to need her help."

* * *

After two pleasant hours spent listening to Val's stories about Buri and his father, all the while making pastry, chopping fruit and mixing spices under her direction, three delicious, beautifully decorated apple pies were baked, served, and duly demolished by Sigrid, Lis, and the elders. The room was still filled with their crisp, spicy fragrance as the two lasses took their leave, with earnest promises of visiting again soon. Lis needed to head into town to pick up a gift she'd ordered for Jorunn's bride's night, and as there was no sign of Fili having returned from the prison cells, Sigrid decided to accompany her, hoping to find a small gift for Jorunn herself.

"Just down here, Griet's leather shop," Lis pointed as they turned a street corner, the town bustling with activity in the warm summer afternoon. "I've got Jorunn a crystal scent bottle, and I asked Griet to make up a pouch for it."

"I know Griet's shop. I bought the leather for my new breeches there," Sigrid said. "She had a few nice things made up, if I remember. I'll have a look."

Griet wasn't in sight as they stepped inside the shop, and they tentatively looked between the racks of leather and peered around corners to see if they could find her.

"Hello?" Sigrid called. "Griet? Is anyone here?"

A voice she knew and loved rang out from somewhere in the back of the shop. "Sigrid? Is that you, love? We're back here." A moment later, Fili's grinning face appeared through a doorway, and he held out his hand to Sigrid.

"Fili? What are you doing here?" she said in surprise, taking his hand. "I thought you were at the prison."

"Been and done," he said. "Come through this way. If you're after Griet, she's out here."

Fili led them to the back room of the shop, a small office mostly taken up by a rickety wooden table in the centre of the room, where Griet, the grey-haired proprietor of the leather shop, her usually cheery face sombre, was sitting side by side with Will. As Will saw who was entering, he stood up hurriedly, knocking his chair backward into the wall.

"Mind you don't break my shop, Will," Griet said, not unkindly. "You've not gotten less clumsy as you've got older, have you?"

Will grinned sheepishly down at Griet and muttered an apology, his eyes immediately glancing back towards Lis in embarrassment. Griet smiled at him with a fond shake of her head, and then addressed herself back to the dwarf lass as well.

"Your order's all ready, Lis. I'll get it for you," she said. She rose and sidled past them out the door. Sigrid looked at Fili in bewilderment, hoping for an explanation.

"Griet is Will and Walcott's aunt, love," Fili said, evidently enjoying the surprise. "We've been making plans, for Walcott's trial tomorrow morning."

"I'm sorry," Lis said self-consciously, turning for the door. "I should leave. You wouldn't want a stranger listening in on your private business…"

Will stopped her. "Not at all, Lis. Please, don't go," he said. "My aunt will be back any minute. And it's common knowledge that my brother's in trouble. I'm not so proud as to try to hide it." The look of appeal in his eyes evidently had the desired effect, because Lis gave him a half-smile.

"If you're sure," she said.

"Yes, I'm sure," Will said, emphasising his words with a grin. Lis grinned back, then gave a start as Griet came up behind her.

"Here you go, Lis," Griet said, handing her a small parcel. "Just as you ordered." Lis opened the parcel and checked the contents, a slim rectangular pouch in grey leather, hand-stitched on the sides and embossed on the front with a stylised Dwarven rune 'J.'

"It's perfect, Griet, thank you," Lis said. She carefully folded the pouch back in its wrappings.

"No trouble at all," Griet replied. She turned to Fili. "Have we covered everything, my lord? If so, I'd better be getting back to work." Griet started bustling around the cluttered office, moving parchments and samples from one pile to another, then stopped. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at her nephew and sighed, and there were tears in her eyes. "There's not a day goes by I don't wish I had done more for Solveig, Will."

"No, don't say that, Auntie Griet. It wasn't your fault she died," Will said quietly, laying his hand on his aunt's arm. "We all had the fever."

"She was worn out, though, wasn't she? With work, with fighting… I should have stepped in. I should have done more." Griet's face crumpled, and wordlessly, Will opened his arms and embraced her. She clung to him for a moment, then pulled back and squared her shoulders, wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry. The past is done, isn't it? It's no good dwelling on it," she said with another sigh. "It's Walcott we need to help now. I just wish he had come straight to me. There's always work to be had out at the beamhouse."

"If all goes to plan, he'll be working there soon," Fili said. "As I said, it's a first offence, the surety should be no more than two hundred gold coins. You'll be responsible for him, Griet, and from what you've both told me, he won't be so stupid as to waste his second chance. Taft won't be so lucky, I'll wager."

"I've twice that amount in my savings. We'll be all right," Griet said. She turned to Will again. "I'd've given it all to you both, if you'd asked, Will. You know that, don't you? Well, it's going to help Wal now, just not in the way we might have wanted."

"I'm so sorry, Auntie," Will said despondently. "This shouldn't be your problem."

It was Griet's turn to comfort her nephew. "And who's to look out for you, if not me? Forgive me for saying so, but if your father cared for Walcott at all, he wouldn't be in this situation. You're both better off with me, and I've no doubt Dain will see it that way too, when we face him tomorrow."

* * *

Seated at the table in their guest room, Sigrid ran her fingers over the grey leather purse she had bought to give to Jorunn, a match for the pouch Lis had ordered but for the monogrammed rune on the front. It was beautiful, the smooth grey leather soft and unblemished, and Fili, standing behind her chair, peered over her shoulder as she toyed with it.

"Very nice. But here." He dug into his pockets and pulled out a copper coin, and leaned around her to drop it into the open purse. "For luck. Never give someone an empty purse."

Sigrid caught his hand as it withdrew, and held it to her cheek. "I'd like to say that we had some luck today, finding out about Buri, but after what happened to you at the prison, I'm not so sure."

"I can't believe I missed the big discovery," Fili said, his other hand playing with a strand of Sigrid's hair. "You'll have to show me the parchments, love. And I would have liked to have talked to Val, too."

"No, you wouldn't. We made apple pies," Sigrid said with a cheeky grin.

"So that's what that awful smell is," he said complacently, leaning down and nuzzling into her neck. "Apples. Ugh."

She laughed and swatted at him. "I don't smell like apples."

He chuckled and nibbled on her earlobe. "No, you don't. You smell beautiful. But don't worry about what happened at the prison, love. Go and have fun with the lasses, and I'll see what I can find out about it while you're gone."

"And why Will was prevented from contacting you, too. The two have to be connected," she said. She was interrupted by a knock on the door. "There's Benni. He'll see me home, my love. I won't be late."

Fili caught her in his arms as she rose from the chair to leave. "I'm glad. Call me daft, but until I've got to the bottom of what's going on, I'll be happier knowing you're not walking the corridors alone."


	28. Chapter 28

"Would you mind if we played Confessions, Sigrid?" Jorunn said, holding up an empty wine bottle and looking at Sigrid with apprehensiveness in her eyes.

"Of course not. It was one of the best parts of my Bride's Night," Sigrid said impishly, and she saw Jorunn relax. The lass had shown a similar hesitation towards Sigrid since she'd arrived, seemingly pleased and overwhelmed at the same time at having a guest of such rank at her Bride's Night, and she suspected that the lass hadn't really believed she would show up. Sigrid had done her best to put her and her friends and family at ease, joining in with laughing good humour with every silly game and nonsensical activity, knowing that their apprehensiveness was more about their expectations of her behaviour than anything personal. It would be a shame if Jorunn looked back on her Bride's Night as memorable chiefly for the amount of fun they didn't have, for fear of offending her, and regretting having invited her.

"On the floor?" Jorunn said. She glanced uncertainly again at Sigrid.

"Absolutely," Sigrid replied. She leaned down to place her half-empty wine goblet on the floor, and promptly got out of her chair and nestled herself into a comfortable position down next to it. She rubbed her hands in expectation. "Who's first?"

With wide smiles, Jorunn and the other guests swiftly followed. Lis took a position next to her on the rug, while their friends Eydis and Gudrun sat opposite, with Siv, Jorunn's aunt, sitting on her right. Behind them stood Benni, in the midst of applying a sweet-smelling cream to Jorunn's mother Ylva's face, and Ylva shifted in her chair, holding her head very still and trying not to move her lips.

"Don't wait for me. I'll be here for a while," she mumbled. Jorunn grinned and placed the bottle on the rug in the centre of the circle, and span it round.

"You know, Sigrid, you're nothing like I thought you would be," Eydis said. The bottle came to rest with the neck pointing towards Gudrun. "We heard lots of rumours, but they were way off the mark. You're very nice."

Lis burst out laughing. "Eydis, listen to yourself. That's a horrible thing to say."

"I'm so sorry, that's not how I meant it to sound," Eydis said, bright red and mortified at her unintentional rudeness.

"It's all right, Eydis," Sigrid said, raising her goblet and taking a sip. She realised the lass had only meant to compliment her, but suddenly all the deference and apprehension towards her made sense. They'd been primed to think ill of her. She felt no need to inquire into the source of the rumours – she knew well enough who would have been the one to spread them.

Lis shook her head. "We all should have known better than to listen to rumours, especially…" She cut herself off. "But let's get on with the game. Gudrun, you have to confess… your first kiss."

There was an outcry.

"Boring! You know perfectly well it was Regin, at my thirteenth birthday," Gudrun said. "You were the one who dared me to kiss him."

"This is a Bride's Night, lass, not nursery hour," Siv added. She held out a wine bottle, and refilled Lis and Eydis's goblets. "Drink up, and let's spice things up a bit. Sigrid? Can I top up your glass?"

Sigrid hesitated, not wanting to offend, but unwilling to offer a falsehood as an excuse. "Thank you, Siv, but I wasn't planning on drinking very much this evening," she said quietly.

Siv looked surprised. Sigrid saw her eyes flick towards her stomach for the briefest of moments, then she leaned closer to Sigrid and lowered her own voice. "I've water there if you'd prefer, lass."

Siv's perceptive, questioning look spoke volumes, and Sigrid smiled, acknowledging the unspoken suspicions with a nod of her head.

"I would prefer it, thanks Siv," she said.

Siv nodded, then turned back to the group, hiding her knowing smile. "You spin, Gudrun, and I'll think of a confession."

The bottle came to rest pointing at Jorunn.

Siv gave the lass a sly look. "You have to confess… your betrothed's favourite place to be kissed."

Jorunn's mouth opened in disbelief as the others dissolved in shrieks of incredulous laughter. Her eyes rounded as she tried to think of something to say, and they slowly glazed over, the colour rising in her cheeks, as she considered her options. A moment later she blinked, her attention coming back to the group, and she grinned.

"The bedroom," she said, a note of triumph in her voice.

The lasses reluctantly accepted the dodge with a mixture of groans and laughter.

"All right, very clever," Siv said. "Spin, Jorunn. Eydis, it's your turn to come up with a confession."

"Right," Eydis said, rubbing her hands. The bottle came to rest pointing at Sigrid. Eydis looked at Sigrid with her head tilted to the side as she thought.

"Sigrid. How about you confess… the first time you and Fili kissed."

Sigrid nodded, smiling at both the recollection and the feeling that she'd been let off the hook, confession-wise. "We were on a picnic, just the two of us, miles from Erebor," she began. "I'd fallen asleep in his arms, quite by accident, and when I woke up I was so embarrassed, but he was nothing but considerate, and understanding. He gave me a really sweet compliment, that made it plain he was interested, so I decided to take matters into my own hands, and I kissed him."

She took a sip of her half-empty glass, and looked around the circle. The four lasses were looking at her with wide eyes, and even Siv's prosaic, no-nonsense expression had softened.

"I can't believe you fell asleep in his arms," Jorunn breathed. "That's so romantic."

Lis laughed again. "How do you 'accidentally' fall asleep in someone's arms?"

"Oh, we've all done that at some point or other," Benni quipped from behind them. "I highly recommend it if you haven't. You're done, Ylva my love. Who's next? Eydis?"

"No, I'm not missing this conversation," Eydis said. "You go, Lissi."

Lis rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly at Eydis, and got up from the rug to swap places with Ylva, who settled herself down into the circle.

"I knew Fili was romantic, when he carried you into town, that day you arrived," Eydis said, her hand on her chest. "I've never seen anything like it. None of the lads around here would be that chivalrous."

Sigrid shook her head with a laugh. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Eydis, but that didn't feel very romantic from my point of view. I'd just been sick in a bush. I felt terrible."

"Well, sick or no, there was hardly as lass there that didn't wish they were in your place, believe me," Ylva said. "But let's get back to the game, shall we? Whose turn is it to spin?"

"Mine," Sigrid said. She grabbed the bottle and span it, and they all watched as it slowed and came to a halt pointing at Eydis. The lass sat up straighter on the rug and looked around expectantly.

"I've got one. A hypothetical," Ylva said. "Who would you rather, Nyrath or Nib?"

The room filled with laughter.

"Too easy," Eydis said. "Nyrath. He's so handsome, and his family's as rich as anything."

"What? Don't be so mercenary, Eydie," Jorunn said. "And besides, Nib's quite as handsome as Nyrath, and not half so humourless."

"I'll wager he's only humourless because he's married to Marni," Eydis said with a snort. "That would be enough to sour anyone."

"Oh come on," Gudrun said. "Marni's not that bad, is she?"

"Marni's a spoiled brat," Siv said. "She'd be a lot nicer if she'd heard 'no' a few more times growing up."

Ylva nodded in agreement. "Dain and Madlen indulged her, no doubt about it. But she was headstrong to start with, Siv. She'd have made a fine ruler of the Iron Hills if she'd put her mind to it, and had the right guidance, but her ambitions ran in another direction." Ylva paused with a guilty glance towards Sigrid, hesitating before she said anything more, but the implication was clear. It left Sigrid feeling uncomfortable, but she tried not to react, remaining silent and calmly finishing the last of her wine.

"Aye. She wasn't used to being thwarted," Siv continued. "She married too hastily as a result. Caught at the first likely lad to come across her path."

"Oh, Siv. She fell in love with him, surely," Gudrun said. "Love isn't about thinking things through."

"Maybe," Jorunn said. "Or maybe you need to spend some time getting to know your sweetheart before you wed. We've done that. Onar knows all my faults, and he wants to wed me anyway. That's how I know he's a keeper." She joined in with the good-natured laughter of the circle around her, then looked at Sigrid. "Don't you agree, Sigrid?"

"Yes, I think it's a very sensible idea," Sigrid replied, grateful for the change in topic.

"I'll wager you and Fili spent ages getting to know each other before you wed," Eydis said. "How long was it, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sigrid looked sheepish. "Er, perhaps we're not such a good example," she said hurriedly. "Shall we get back to the game?"

With a cheeky grin, Eydis grabbed the bottle on the rug in front of her and turned it around to point at Sigrid. Sigrid laughed, shaking her head as she gave in.

"All right. From first kiss to handfasting, it was…" She paused.

"Two years?"

"One?"

"Not less than a six-month, surely?"

Sigrid shrugged, amused but still embarrassed, and feigned an apologetic look. "Seven days," she said, and grinned as the lasses burst out laughing.

* * *

Onar's Groom's Night took the form of drinks at a popular tavern in town, and Fili was relieved to find Nib and Duf still relatively sober as he accepted a tankard and pulled up a stool next to them at the bar. He looked around for the groom and found him off to one side, with an unsteady tankard raised high, singing a drinking song at the top of his lungs, only remaining upright by virtue of two other members of the squad supporting him on either side. He grinned and turned back to Nib.

"Onar looks to be having a good time," he said. "Maybe too good. How will Jorunn take it if he's still hungover at the ceremony tomorrow?"

"Oh, Jorunn's a good sort," Nib replied, glancing over his shoulder to where Onar had begun dancing a drunken jig. "She'll just prop him up there in front of everyone and keep right on going." He chuckled at the thought, then looked at Fili. "Speaking of good sorts, here's to your Sigrid." He raised his tankard. "She's a fine lass. How on earth did you get her to accept your sorry hide in marriage?"

Fili laughed and clinked his tankard to Nib's and Duf's. "I'm well aware of my good luck there, my friend. But what about yourself? Any lasses caught your eye?"

Fili was surprised when Nib fell silent and hunched over his tankard. Duf laughed and clapped him on the back. "There's a feast tomorrow night," Duf said. "Just ask her to dance."

"Drop it," Nib growled, giving Duf a shove with his elbow, but there was a hint of a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth. "Leave me alone."

Fili raised an eyebrow and exchanged a significant grin with Duf, then changed the subject. "I won't leave you alone, Nib, because I want to talk to you. You remember those three thieves we caught, at the Pick and Shovel? What do you know about their hearings being brought forward?"

Nib shrugged. "Not much. Dain wants them over and done with before the feast, apparently."

"Any idea why?"

"No." He sat up straighter on his stool, a frown deepening on his brow. "I know it's short notice, but I would have thought the cases were straightforward enough. You caught them in the act, after all, Fili. Why do you ask? Is there something going on?"

"I don't know if there's something going on, but it's not my idea of justice to leave someone no time to prepare a case for their own defence," he said. He took a sip of his ale. "But Dain's lord, it's his justice, not mine. When did he speak to you?"

Nib shook his head. "He didn't. Nyrath told me."

Nyrath. Marni's husband. Had the decision really come from Dain? If the lass was still holding a grudge against him, she could easily have persuaded Nyrath to interfere with the hearings. But then again, she could just as easily have persuaded Dain. There was nothing firm to go on. But, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to find out what the lads knew about Nyrath, anyway. He glanced casually around the tavern.

"Is Nyrath here tonight?"

"Nah, he said he had something on," Nib said. "Don't know what."

"It was making a point of not drinking with us, that's what," Duf said. "Pretentious jerk." He overrode Nib's protest. "No, you'll never say it, Nib, but someone has to. Nib should have been Captain, Fili. He's the best fighter, the best strategist, the best with the troops. But Nyrath turns up and marries the lord's daughter, and next thing we know, he's in charge."

"It's no matter. Dain can promote whoever he chooses. But cheers, lad." Nib lifted his tankard and took a sip.

"What do you mean, 'turns up', Duf? Is Nyrath not a local lad?" Fili said. "I assumed he was born here after I left."

"No, he came about five years ago, from the Blue Mountains," Nib said, shaking his head. "Made a reputation being tough on crime, you know the type."

Duf snorted. "Purchased his reputation with coin, more like. He couldn't fight his way out of a hessian sack."

"I thought I knew most people from the Blue Mountains," Fili said with a frown. "He's son of Neln, isn't he? I don't recognise the name."

Nib shook his head again. "It's Nellin, not Neln. You remember, the coal miner, who made all that coin out the back of the Blue Mountains." He paused, and gave Fili a sly grin. "Nearly as much coin as you have."

"Ha, ha, Nib, very funny," Fili said. He lowered his voice. "Lads, I'd value your judgement over just about anyone else in the Iron Hills, but don't answer this if you think I'm out of line. Do you trust him?"

Duf immediately straightened on his stool. "Nyrath? Not for a minute."

Nib shook his head for a third time, slowly, weighing up his answer. "There's two things I won't do, Fili. I'll not speak against my lord, and I'll not speak against my troops. Any problem I have with them, I'll address directly, not talk about them behind their backs." He paused and looked around the tavern. "But Nyrath's neither of those. I wouldn't trust him as far as I can spit."

* * *

"That's the earliest I've ever left a Bride's Night," Bennon said as they made their way back through the dim corridors towards Sigrid's guest room. "And the soberest, if I'm honest."

"Me too," Sigrid said, rather despondently. "I'm sorry to have spoiled your fun, Benni."

"You've spoiled nothing, my dear. I'm here to look after you, not to please myself," he said quickly. "It's my job. And I promised my lord I'd see you safely back to your chamber, and I don't break my promises."

Sigrid slipped her arm through Bennon's as they walked and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Benni. I do appreciate everything you're doing."

He patted the hand resting in the crook of his arm, and pursed his lips to keep from smiling. "My pleasure, my darling girl. But you make it easy to do a good job." They reached Sigrid's door and stopped, and Benni let go of her arm to lean forward and inspect the skin on her face. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "You've been using the rosehip oil, haven't you?" he said, pleased. "The redness has come right out."

"Morning and night," she assured him. "The itchy feeling has gone, too."

"Good. Like I said, you make it easy to do a good job. Some of those lasses tonight…" He cut himself off and made a turning motion in front of his lips with his fingers, like a key turning in a lock. "But that's none of my business, I'm not there to judge." He laughed. "Not out loud, anyway."

Sigrid shook her head fondly at him. "Anyway. Thank you for coming and doing their facials, and thank you for seeing me home safely."

"You're welcome, my dearest. The looks on their faces when you talked them through Yavanna's Delight! It was worth it for that alone."

Sigrid giggled. "A Bride's Night tradition. Just trying to pass it on."

Benni grinned, and then turned as they heard a muffled noise in the corridor behind them. Sigrid craned her neck to peer over Benni's shoulder.

"Is someone there? Oh, it's you, Nyrath." The Captain of the Guard stepped out of the shadows, and nodded curtly to Sigrid and Bennon.

"Good evening, Lady Sigrid. Just a routine inspection." He looked away from her briefly to eye Bennon swiftly up and down, his gaze enigmatic. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you in the corridors at night, would we?" he said, and without further ceremony, he turned on his heel and left.

Bennon and Sigrid looked at each other.

"The Captain of the Guard does routine patrols now?" Bennon said quietly. "Not likely." He took a breath, and then raised his voice cheerily. "You head on to bed, my dear, safe and sound. I'm heading out. I think I'll go and see if Sigbert's ever heard of Yavanna's Delight."


	29. Chapter 29

"Fili?" Sigrid reached out beside her. He wasn't there. She had briefly stirred in the night when Fili had come to bed, at what time she didn't know, and had promptly fallen straight back to sleep again. Apart from that one brief stir she'd slept relatively soundly, but the heavy feeling of lethargy in her limbs as she woke told her it hadn't been for long enough, and that her late night was going to exact a toll. She rolled over, and despite an attempt at staving it off with some deep breaths of fresh air, a wave of nausea welled in her chest and she closed her eyes and retched.

"I'm here, love," she heard her husband say, and she felt his warm hand stroking her forehead. She sighed, and opened her eyes to see him in front of her, his sunny eyes clouded in concern. "I was hoping you'd sleep in."

"I don't think my stomach's going to let me," she murmured, and gave him a wan smile.

"Here." He offered her a piece of lembas from the bedside table. "Eat this while I fetch you some tea and toast." She took the waybread and nibbled at it, and closed her eyes again as he kissed her forehead. "I won't be long."

* * *

"What time is the hearing?" she said as she sipped her warm tea, propped up in the bed with a stack of pillows behind her. Thanks to the food and the ginger in the tea, the nausea had subsided to a manageable level, but the tiredness was another matter. Perhaps a nap in the afternoon would be in order.

"Not until eleven. We've plenty of time," Fili replied, lying comfortably on the bed beside her. "Relax, love. Tell me about the Bride's Night. How was it?"

"It was great, once they realised the rumours they'd heard about me weren't true," she said with a short, rueful laugh. "Apparently I like everyone to call me "Your Highness," and I eat breakfast in my room each morning because I think I'm too far above everyone to come to the dining hall. I swear, Fili, one of these days I'm going to throw a knife at Marni's head."

Fili shook his head with a half-smile, at the same time disgusted with Marni and tickled by Sigrid's hollow threat. "I'd wager you wouldn't miss, too. But seriously, love, I'm sorry. I'll speak to Dain about it, if you want."

"No, it's not worth it," she said with a sigh. "It's just petty spite. She can't hurt me, not really." She took another sip of her tea, her hands wrapped around the mug, and smiled to herself. "The lasses know better now, anyway. Jorunn's a dear, and Gudrun is so sweet, she just refuses to think ill of anyone. Eydis on the other hand, she blurts out whatever she's thinking. It's hilarious, most of the time. But what about you, my love? Did you find out anything about Walcott's hearing?"

"Yes, and no," Fili said with a sigh of his own. "Nib and his troop have no love for Nyrath, that's certain. It's not my place to question Dain's decisions, though. He might take it as an affront. I'll just have to wait and see how it plays out."

"That reminds me. Nyrath was there, outside, when Benni and I got back last night," she said, nodding her head towards the door. "He said he was doing a routine inspection, and that he wouldn't want anything to happen to me in the corridors at night."

Instantly, Fili's expression hardened and he sat up, his eyes glinting. "He threatened you? Are you all right, love?"

"I'm fine, Fili. It wasn't threatening, just… creepy."

Fili's body relaxed, but his eyes never lost their icy glint. "He'd rue the day he threatened you, Sigrid, believe me. But it sounds like he knows I'm on to him. What I don't know, is who he's taking his orders from. Is it Dain, or Marni?" Sigrid watched him apprehensively as he pondered, then as he became aware of her worried face, she saw him collect himself and smile.

"Let me worry about Nyrath, love. I'll sort it out," he said. "Are you starting to feel better, Sigrid mine? We've a bit of time before the hearing – would you like to go back to sleep?"

She knew it was a diversion, but she let it slide, knowing it stemmed from concern for her wellbeing rather than from a belief that she couldn't handle it. "No. If we've got time, I'd like to stop in at the archives room, my love. There's something there I want to show you."

* * *

Sigrid stopped outside the door of the archives room, her hand grasping the handle. "Before we go in, I want to tell you, it wasn't my fault."

The look on her face, contrite, but with her eyes sparkling in amusement, had Fili intrigued. "What wasn't?" he said. "What's going on?"

"This," she said, and she opened the door.

The archives room was full of people. Eydis and Gudrun were at the bench, poring over the enormous, dusty birth registers, while Jorunn, Siv and Ylva rifled though the sheaves of diaries and medical documents that Lis was ferrying from the shelves. They all looked up as Sigrid and Fili entered.

"Morning," Siv said cheerily, a touch bleary-eyed. "How are you feeling, Sigrid? Any morning sickness?"

"My lord, my lady," Ylva said, with an admonitory glance towards her sister. "We're glad you're here. Gudrun's already found a 'daughter of men,' haven't you, dear?" She gestured to where Gudrun was smiling with bashful charm at the other end of the bench. Sigrid's eyes lit up and she gave Fili a delighted grin. He stared at her, stunned, then caught hold of her hand as she started towards Gudrun.

"They know?"

"Don't worry, Sigrid didn't say anything," Jorunn said with a laugh. "We worked it out for ourselves. We were sitting on the floor, and Sigrid nearly fainted when she got up."

"And not drinking at a Bride's Night?" Eydis added. "We're not that stupid."

"No-one suggested you were, lass," Ylva said over her shoulder. "Mind your tongue." She turned back to Fili. "Your wife was reluctant to confess that she is with child, my lord, but we winkled it out of her. Please rest assured it will go no further than us."

Fili looked at Sigrid's face with its hopeful smile, her beautiful eyes still shrouded in contrition and worry, unsure of his reaction. He gave her hand a squeeze, shrugged his shoulders, and grinned.

"Clearly, keeping secrets in the Iron Hills is harder than we thought," he said. He looked around the room at the faces of the dwarrowdams and lasses, struck by their simple kindness and generosity in wanting to help them with their search. "But I trust you. And I thank you, truly, with all my heart. Now where's this 'daughter of men' you've found?"

* * *

Rannveig, daughter of men. Mother of Austri. Wife of Andvari, son of Ai, a son of Durin. Sigrid ran her fingers lightly over the faded runes on the page, in wonder and awe at the chain of events that had brought them in front of her, meticulously recorded and preserved to be read centuries after the lives of all those they mentioned had ended. Like Buri, there was no way of knowing from the birth record whether Austri had survived infancy, but knowing that Rannveig had lived, had loved, and had been a mother amongst the dwarven people, was something. No, it was more than that. It was amazing.

"Austri. 'Eastern,'" Fili murmured over her shoulder. "I'll wager she came from the East."

"What's out there?" Sigrid asked.

Fili shrugged. "Same as what's between here and Erebor. Sparsely settled land, plains, and wilderness. Although Tauriel would say that eventually you'd reach the Wild Wood and the mountains of Orocani, and the lake where her people first woke. But that sounds like a myth to me. No-one who's been out there has ever mentioned seeing a lake."

Sigrid's fingers lightly touched the parchment again. The East. Had Rannveig been a trader, falling in love with a handsome dwarf during her travels? Or had Andvari been the one to find her, out on the eastern plains? The birth record dated back seven hundred years, well beyond the living memory of even the eldest of the elders, so unless there were other records, diaries, medical histories and the like, she would never know the circumstances of their meeting. But knowing she existed was in itself a comforting thought. Along with Bekkhildr, it made Sigrid feel that she wasn't alone.

Her musings were interrupted when the door of the archives room flew open. Will burst through the doorway and stopped just inside, panting, looking around the room frantically. His shoulders relaxed in relief as his eyes fell on Fili.

"Fili. The hearings. They're starting," he said between breaths.

"What, now?" Fili said, instantly alert. He started moving towards the door. "Someone's looking to make this as difficult as possible, clearly. Let's go."

Will and Fili disappeared through the doorway at a run, and Sigrid slid off her stool to follow them. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at Lis.

"Coming, Lis?"

The lass hesitated, her hands full of parchments. Finally Eydis got up and took them out of her hands, giving Lis a smirking grin.

"Go on, Lissi. We can take care of this," she said. She nudged Lis with her elbow. "Hurry up or you'll miss him. Miss it, I mean."

Lis rolled her eyes at Eydis, but a faint blush of colour had risen in her cheeks, and she followed Sigrid out the door.

* * *

Sigrid and Lis found Fili and Will standing with Will's aunt Griet amongst the small crowd of a dozen or so people gathered in Dain's hearing chamber, just as the bailiff was ringing the bell to announce his entrance.

"Let all here present bear witness," the bailiff said loudly. "This justice hearing is now in session."

A figure in blue robes emerged from a door to the side of the room, stepped onto the raised dais in front of them and sat, head held high, in the carved chair placed at its centre. Fili swore under his breath. It wasn't Dain. It was Nyrath.

The Captain of the Guard waved a hand at the bailiff to commence the proceedings.

"Dain, Lord of the Iron Hills, empowers his representative Nyrath, Captain of the Guard of the Iron Hills, to dispense justice in his name," the bailiff continued. "Bring forward the first prisoner."

The leader of the gang of thieves that Fili had helped capture, a dark, scowling man known as Taft, was led forward, his hands bound with rope. He stood with a glare of defiance in front of Nyrath, flanked by two guards. The bailiff handed Nyrath a parchment, and he looked it over indifferently before handing it back. His eyes roamed the room briefly, and as he registered Fili's presence they narrowed almost imperceptibly, the rest of his face impassive, before giving his attention back to Taft.

"Taft," he said in his deep, resonant voice. "You stand accused of vagrancy, plotting, and twenty-three counts of thievery. What have you to say in your defence?"

Taft shifted from foot to foot and glared up at Nyrath. "It wasn't me. You've got the wrong man."

Nyrath sneered. "Thirteen witnesses beg to differ, thief. Do you have anyone to speak for you?"

Taft shifted again, and glowered, and said nothing.

Nyrath held his head higher. "In Dain's name, I sentence you to twenty-three years labour in the mines," he said. Fili glanced at Sigrid apprehensively. Clearly Nyrath's reputation for being tough on crime was not undeserved.

Taft was led away, struggling and cursing over his shoulder at Nyrath, and the rangy, sandy-haired Hawk was brought in to face justice. With no defence and no-one to speak on his behalf, his case was dispensed with in a similarly superficial manner, with Nyrath sentencing him to eighteen years labour in the mines. Fili felt Sigrid grip his hand as the sentence was passed down, and he gave it a squeeze. Walcott, without the long history of offences that those two had had, should fare a lot better.

Walcott was brought in, hands bound and with barely concealed terror in his eyes, and Griet and Will stepped to the front of the small crowd. The bailiff handed Nyrath another parchment. Nyrath took his time studying it, then looked up at Walcott with narrowed eyes.

"Walcott," he said slowly, the merest hint of derision in his voice. "You stand accused of one count of thievery. What have you to say in your defence?"

Walcott glanced behind him at Will, who nodded, encouraging him to speak, and he cleared his throat, looking up at Nyrath in apprehension and fear.

"Your honour. I want to state the following in my defence. I fell in with Taft and Hawk by deception, and was blackmailed into joining them on the raid against the Pick and Shovel Inn. I drew a knife on a woman with the intent of robbing her, and I take full responsibility for that. But I did tell Taft we should leave it when it looked like he was going to hurt someone. I never meant for that to happen." He finished his speech and hung his head, his attempt at defending himself seemingly spent.

Nyrath's impassive eyes never left the lad's face. "You're a lucky man, Walcott," he said coolly. "If someone had pulled a knife on _my_ wife, I certainly wouldn't have left them alive to tell the tale." Fili bristled, and he felt Sigrid squeeze his hand in response. He took a breath and controlled himself; it wouldn't help anyone if he rose to Nyrath's clumsy bait.

"Do you have anyone to speak for you?" Nyrath continued. Will and Griet stepped out from the front of the crowd.

"I will speak for my nephew, your honour," Griet said tremulously, wringing her hands. "He's done wrong, but he is sorry for it, and he deserves a second chance. I've a job lined up for him at my beamhouse, and I undertake to be responsible for his actions, with whatever surety you deem fit to set."

Nyrath drew himself up in his chair, and smiled. "I am generous, and I will show mercy to your nephew, Griet. A first offence is indeed pardonable, with a surety, as you say, and as you are known by reputation as an upstanding member of our town, I have confidence in entrusting this man's future actions to your keeping. But his offence was a serious one, and we cannot risk the town losing faith in the Lord's justice. The surety is set at ten thousand gold coins."

An audible gasp went around the chamber.

"Ten thousand?" Griet said in disbelief. "How am I to pay half such a sum?"

It was the last straw. Fili stepped to the front of the crowd.

"I will pay it. The responsibility will be mine," he said, holding Nyrath's eye.

Nyrath stared back at him. "You can't," he said triumphantly, and for the first time his impassive mask broke, and Fili saw the malice that the Captain of the Guard bore him. "I'm sorry, Fili, but you will be returning to Erebor soon. You won't be here to supervise his conduct." Nyrath let himself gloat for a moment, then his face returned to its cool, expressionless mask. "I'm terribly sorry, Griet, but if you are unable to pay the surety, this man will be sentenced to two years' labour in the mines."

Walcott's shoulders slumped, and Griet clutched at Will's arm.

Fili glared at Nyrath a moment longer, then leaned in to whisper in Griet's ear. "Tell him you'll pay it. I'll give you the coin."

"My lord…" she said weakly, shaking her head.

"It's me he wants to rile, Griet. You'd probably have got your two hundred if not for me. Tell him."

Griet took hold of Fili's hand and squeezed it, then turned to face Nyrath. "I will pay the surety, your honour," she said.

Nyrath regarded her in silence, his lips pursed, for a long while before he spoke. "Very well, Griet. The prisoner will be released into your keeping on receipt of the surety." Without another word, he rose from the chair and left the chamber, waving an irritated hand at the bailiff as he passed. The crowd of onlookers started murmuring amongst themselves, and Griet and Will hurried forward to speak to Walcott before he was led away. Fili, Sigrid and Lis gave them a moment to talk, then joined them.

"My lord…" Walcott said, his face crumpling. He brought his bound hands up to hide his face as he sobbed, then he gulped in a breath and composed himself, wiping his eyes one at a time with the back of one hand.

"You've been given a second chance, Walcott. Don't waste it, or I'll hunt you down myself," Fili said, not unkindly. The young man nodded, and they watched as the guards led him away. Lis moved to Will's side for a quiet word as Griet approached the bailiff to discuss terms, and Fili felt Sigrid's hand drawing him aside.

"My love," she whispered, and put her arms around him. She rested her forehead on his for a moment, then drew back to look at him. "You're the best person I know. But do you trust Walcott, after what he did?"

"Not at all," he said, and he felt Sigrid start in surprise. "But look at Griet and Will, Sigrid. Look at their love for him. That's what I trust. If he will but listen to them, he may turn out all right."

She slid her arms back around him, and he relaxed into her embrace. When she finally let him go, he gave her a rueful smile.

"We may have saved Walcott, love, but did you see Nyrath's face? He's shown his hand, and he knows I'm on to him. I don't think for a minute that this is over."


	30. Chapter 30

Fili hefted the knife in his hand, twirled it, then held it up and turned it this way and that, casting a judgemental eye over his craftsmanship. He picked up its twin in his other hand, and compared them. He had elongated the fullers, and taken out more of the weight of them during the grind than he would ordinarily have done, to suit Tilda's size and strength rather than his own, and consequently they felt too light for his hands, like a small lad's training blade. But they were serious weapons, not toys, and for Tilda the balance would be perfect. He felt justly proud of them as he laid them down on the workbench, and wrapped them in a soft cloth to await honing and polishing. It hadn't taken long to finish the grinding, and as he peered out the window to judge the time he wondered if Sigrid would be awake. He had left her to her afternoon nap, hoping the rest would ease her nausea and replenish her energy for the feast tonight, and he was quite prepared to miss the function entirely if it hadn't, no matter the fuss Madlen and Marni might make about it. Sigrid's welfare came first. He decided to give her another half an hour, and headed out to get her something that she could wear to the feast, if she felt well enough to attend, and if she didn't, would at least hopefully serve to brighten her day.

* * *

Bennon was just placing the last touches to Sigrid's hair when Fili returned to their guest room. He stood inside the door, his gift hidden behind his back, and surveyed her in admiration as she sat in her dressing robe and looked up at him with a smile from her chair in the middle of the chamber. Bennon had braided the mass of Sigrid's hair loosely at the back of her head, contriving to weave the sun-lightened strands from the top against the darker honey gold from underneath in an intricate pattern, and had curled a few wispy tendrils to frame her face and neck that Fili immediately wanted to wind around his finger. He grinned, imagining the scolding Bennon would give him if he did.

"You look beautiful," he said. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Thank you, my love. Benni's been weaving his magic, as usual," Sigrid replied. "And yes, I did sleep, a bit. I feel well enough at the moment. Although Benni had to talk me out of a tantrum earlier, didn't you, Benni?" She grinned in sheepish amusement at the recollection, and glanced up behind her at Bennon, who patted her shoulder indulgently.

"Hardly a tantrum, dear girl, just a mood swing," he said. "I'm sure I've felt the same when I couldn't find _my_ slippers."

Fili was immediately concerned, and took a step forward. "We don't have to go, love, if you're not feeling well. It's not that important."

"No, I want to go. I feel fine, Fili, truly. And I promise to tell you the minute I don't."

He took a breath, blew it out, and nodded, trusting her judgement. "All right then, if you're sure." He smiled and brought out his gift from behind his back. "Here, love. I got these for you."

He offered her the handful of wildflowers that he'd gathered from along the roadside and the marshy banks of the Redwater, cornflowers and harebells and columbines, white meadowsweet and pink ragged robin.

"Wildflowers? Fili, they're lovely, thank you," she said with a cry of surprise. She took them and breathed in the scent of the meadowsweet, and looked up at him again, her smile and her beautiful grey-blue eyes tender. He smiled back at her.

"I hoped you'd like them," he said softly, and leaned in for a kiss. "I wandered down to the river to see if I could find something for you. But now I'd better go and get clean and get ready. Bennon, my friend, I take it you've brought something for me to wear? Bennon?"

As he spoke to Bennon, he was surprised to see that the dwarf had turned away from him, and was holding a hand to his chest. Without looking around Bennon waved a handkerchief in the direction of the bed with his other hand, where a formal shirt and breeches were laid out neatly in preparation.

"Oh, Benni, what's wrong?" Sigrid asked, hurriedly rising from her chair to comfort Bennon with a rub on the arm.

"Nothing's wrong, dear girl," he sniffed, dabbing at his eyes. "Your husband's just the sweetest… never mind." He squared his shoulders and fixed a bright smile on his face. "By all means go and get ready, my lord. My lady will be ready by the time you return." He sniffed again, and gave a last quick dab of his eyes with the handkerchief. "And after that, I've got to make a quick trip down to the river."

* * *

Fili bathed and dressed at the bathing room at the end of the corridor, rubbing his hair dry with a towel and rebraiding it neatly, then made his way back, hoping he'd given Sigrid enough time. He opened the door and went inside, and stopped short as his eyes fell on her. She was tidying up the room, placing her dressing robe on the bed and cleaning up a few crumbs of lembas from the bedside table, and she looked up and smiled as he came in. She stopped and faced him, holding her hands out from her sides, and said "What do you think?"

He was speechless. Her gown was made of some kind of floaty material, soft pink like the colour in her cheeks, with wide straps almost covering her shoulders but dipping low to reveal the swell of her breasts, and it flared out over the curves of her body from a point just underneath them, disguising the fullness of her belly. Bennon had pinned a spray of the wildflowers there in lieu of jewels, and tucked yet more amongst the braiding in her hair, and she looked like something out of a dream, a meadowsprite or fairy spirit made flesh, as ripe and delicate as summer strawberries. Fili stepped forward slowly, mesmerised, and reached out as he'd wanted to earlier, though he hardly dared to touch her, for one of the wispy, honey-gold curls caressing her neck, and wound it gently around his finger. He let it unravel as he drew his finger down over her skin to her collarbone and along the neckline of her gown over the top of her breasts, and he saw her close her eyes and felt her shiver in response.

"Mm. I'll take that for a 'you look lovely, Sigrid,'" she sighed, opening her eyes, and he could see the heat kindled in their depths.

"'Lovely' doesn't begin to describe it, amrâlimê. You're a vision," he said throatily. "Do we have to go?"

"We do," she replied with a grin, and she raised a hand to cup his cheek and caressed it with her thumb. "But hold on to that thought, my love, for later tonight."

* * *

Sigrid held tightly to Fili's arm as they entered the hall, and he gave her hand a squeeze. He knew she wasn't fond of crowds, and the hall was crowded, full of dwarves and men and women both, with extra tables and benches being brought in to accommodate them, and all eyes were on the two of them as they wound their way slowly through to the top of the hall and the honour table. Dain and Madlen, and Marni and Nyrath, all dressed stiffly in formal attire and dripping with jewels, were standing in front of the table facing the hall, and a hush fell over the murmuring crowd as Sigrid and Fili came to a halt in front of them to make their courtesies.

Marni stepped forward, her customary sour look on her face.

"Welcome, Prince Fili and Princess Sigrid, to this feast in your honour," she announced. "We have been most gratified by your visit, and we wish to extend our hospitality with the finest that the Iron Hills has to offer, in recognition of the bonds of kinship and goodwill that exist between our land and the kingdom of Erebor."

Fili bowed, and beside him Sigrid held her skirts and gave an elegant curtsy.

"Thank you, for both your gracious welcome and your generous hospitality, cousin," he said. "We are most honoured." Marni kissed Fili warmly on both cheeks, then did the same to Sigrid, rather less warmly, and stepped back. They all waited for a moment, then Marni gave her father an exasperated nudge with her elbow.

"Is that it? All done?" Dain blustered. He raised his voice. "All right then. Let's eat, everyone." The crowd applauded politely and shuffled into their benches, and as they walked around the table to be seated, Dain clapped Fili on the back.

"I'm not much for these formal affairs, but you know, my lassie likes it. What does it matter, as long as the food is good and the drink is better, hey Fili?"

Fili nodded non-commitally. "I had the pleasure of witnessing one of your justice hearings this morning, Dain, with Nyrath presiding," he said, choosing his words carefully and keeping his tone light. "Do you usually not conduct them yourself?"

Dain looked bemused. "This morning? No, I was out on the golf course. I'm sure it was all handled in a bonny fashion, though. I'll have to take you out for a round before you leave, lad. There's nothing like having a whack at the wee white balls, unless it's lopping the heads off orcs. But you'd know all about that, hey lad?"

Fili nodded non-committally again, taking his seat beside Sigrid. It sounded as though Dain had had no idea the hearing even existed, let alone having ordered the date be brought forward. It had to be Marni's doing. There was nothing he could do about it now, he thought, as he helped Sigrid and himself to the food that had started appearing on trays in front of him, and he resolved to appear relaxed, and to enjoy the feast, but all the while quietly keeping his eyes and ears open.

* * *

"I'm glad this dress is high-waisted. I've eaten so much my stomach must be sticking out a mile," Sigrid whispered to Fili at the end of the meal, as the tables were being pushed back. "The food was delicious. But now I'm so full I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to dance."

"Don't worry, love. You can lean on me," he whispered back. He stood and held out his hand to her, and she rose and took it, and he led her to the dance floor.

"Not so fast, lassie," Dain called to her as Fili took her in his arms for the first dance. "I'm supposed to have the first dance, as you're a guest and all." Before she knew it, Sigrid's hand was taken by Dain, and Marni had practically leapt to Fili's side. Fili gave Sigrid a rueful grin as he took Marni's hand, and together with Nyrath partnering Madlen, they moved to the centre of the hall to open the dance.

At the side of the hall, Sigrid was delighted to see Owen's tall frame sticking out amongst the dwarven pipers and drummers, busy tuning up a lute with his golden harp on the floor at his side, and he smiled at Sigrid and gave her an affectionate nod as the musicians began playing.

Dain circled her around the floor surprisingly well for half a song, humming along to the melody, then as the rest of the crowd started to join the dance, he looked around for Fili and Nyrath.

"Time to swap, lads," he said. "Fili, you take Mads, and I'll stand up with my lassie. Here you go, Nyrath." He spun Sigrid towards the Captain of the Guard, and she almost overbalanced as she came to a halt in front of him. He caught her hand to steady her and gave her a smooth half-bow.

"With pleasure," he said, and with an uneasy look over her shoulder at Fili, she stepped into his arms to dance.

* * *

Fili couldn't wait for the song to finish. He tried to maintain some polite small talk with Madlen as he led her around the dance floor, as he had done with Marni, but he kept glancing towards Sigrid, concerned by the look she had given him before she'd started dancing with Nyrath. He knew she found the black-haired dwarf vaguely unsettling, and he was tempted more than once to simply cut his dance with Madlen short and reclaim her, but he talked himself out of it. It was only one dance, and he didn't want to offend Madlen by being dismissive towards her. At last the song ended, and Sigrid left Nyrath with a few polite words and a curtsy and returned to his arms.

He held her close. "Are you all right, love? I know you'd rather not have had to do that," he whispered.

"I'm fine. He was perfectly well-mannered. I don't know, maybe I was imagining things." She looked lost in thought for a moment, then her eyes returned to his and she gave him a cheeky grin. "But what about you, my love? Did you enjoy your dance with Marni?"

"Immensely," he teased. "Highlight of my evening. The most charming lass I've ever met."

She laughed and swatted at his arm in pretended indignation, before Dain interrupted them by cutting off the music and addressing the crowd in his booming voice.

"They tell me there's a couple here tonight looking to be wed. Where are ye then?"

The crowd parted to allow Jorunn to come through, grasping Onar, who still looked a little the worse for wear from his groom's night festivities, firmly by the hand. The crowd shuffled back and hushed into silence as their family and friends gathered in a circle around them, and they stood together in the middle, hands clasped, and looked into each other's eyes, and smiled. It wasn't the way Sigrid would have chosen to be wed, with so many curious eyes upon her, but it was love, and it was beautiful, and she moved closer to Fili and leaned her head against his as Jorunn and Onar made their promises to each other in the silence, and Fili slid his arm further around her waist and turned his head to kiss her cheek. Then, just as Jorunn and Onar completed their vows, from behind her she heard Owen's voice, low and rich and sweet, singing them a haunting love song, and when he added the soft harmonic chords of his golden harp, the sheer beauty of it brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away, unwilling to miss a moment of the rapt faces of the bride and groom, as enthralled as the rest of the crowd with the unexpected serenade, but knowing that it was for them alone the minstrel sang. The soft, uniquely blended tones of the minstrel's voice and his instrument reached effortlessly into the corners of the room, and seemingly as effortlessly into the corners of every heart that heard them. Then, as the reverberations of the last chord faded away, Owen bowed his head and let the silence again fill the hall, and somehow it was no longer an empty silence, but full, full of emotion and reverence and wonder. It was sublime.

It was Dain who broke the spell. He started clapping, and like a dam breaking the rest of the crowd burst into cheers and applause, some surging forward to congratulate Jorunn and Onar and shower them with coins, and some making their way to Owen with praise and gratitude and open purse strings. Beside her, Fili said nothing, but slid a hand up to cup her cheek, and he pressed his lips to hers tenderly, and she could taste the saltiness of his tears in his kiss.

"Ah, that warms an old dwarf's heart, that does," Dain said gruffly, clearing his throat a couple of times and blinking away a mistiness from his own eyes as he looked around the hall. "Play us another, minstrel, if you please."

Owen looked up from where he was gathering the coin he'd been offered, and bowed his head to Dain. "Most willingly, my lord. I happen to have a newly-written ballad ready for its premiere performance, one that is particularly close to my heart, and it would fill me with pride to present it to you, if I may."

With Dain's assent, he tucked his coin purse away and perched back on his stool, while the musicians around him looked on appreciatively, and re-tuned his harp. Sigrid caught him looking at her with a glint twinkling in his eye as he began to sing.

 _"O to be young on a fine summer's day_

 _O to be comely and fair_

 _O for the maiden one meets on the way_

 _The one with the honey-gold hair._

 _O for the maiden with eyes of blue-grey_

 _It would be a sweet affair_

 _To free her from bondage and take her away_

 _The lass with the honey-gold hair._

 _Her breath a sweet sigh, her glances betray_

 _The love that she will not declare_

 _Her smile shines around her as bright as the day_

 _My love with the honey-gold hair."_

"Fili, it's his song about Ingrid," Sigrid said softly. "He told me he'd written one. It's lovely."

Fili nodded. "After that last song, I should imagine he'd have enough coin to buy her farm and all its livestock too, if he wanted. But I don't think that's what he does want. Like the song says, he wants to take Ingrid away, and make a fresh start somewhere else. Here." He dug into his pocket for his coin purse, and pressed it into her hands. "I know we've already given him some coin, but that performance deserves more. I've never heard the like." He paused, and then chuckled. "No wonder he wouldn't let me help him. I think Owen knew very well what sort of profit he would make all on his own by coming here for this feast. But he's worth every penny, isn't he? Go and see how much he'll let you give him, love. I'll pretend to look the other way."

Sigrid smiled and kissed Fili's lips. "Gladly."

* * *

Fili was looking studiously away from Sigrid and Owen at the crowd forming up for a circle dance, when Nyrath stepped up coolly beside him.

"How are you enjoying your feast, Fili? I trust everything is meeting your expectations?" he said in his deep, resonant voice.

Fili turned to look him in the eye. "I'll admit I'm enjoying it more than that hearing you ran this morning."

Nyrath laughed, a short contemptuous bark. "It's the law, Fili. Don't take it so personally."

"Whose justice was it, though, Nyrath? Not Dain's. He didn't know anything about it."

Nyrath snorted. "Dain has entrusted me to be his representative. So the decisions, the sentences, are mine to make as I see fit. Not that that's any business of yours." He looked back at the crowd, his head held high. "I actually came over to congratulate you on your choice of bride, Fili. I was skeptical when I heard you'd married a daughter of men, but now that I've met Sigrid, I confess I quite understand the attraction. She is lovely."

Nyrath's words, oily and condescending, reminded Fili of the exchange Sigrid had told him about, outside their door the night before. It was the same tactic – there was no outright threat of which he could stand accused, but all sorts of insinuations could be read into it easily enough. He fought to maintain his composure.

"Her beauty is the least of her good qualities, Nyrath. She's also intelligent, courageous, loyal and honourable. But I guess one has to possess those qualities to recognise them."

"A most admirable list," Nyrath said with a smirk, ignoring the barb. "She is a jewel indeed." Without any further comment, Nyrath turned on his heel and left. Fili was left quietly seething, and then he wondered whether that was in fact what Nyrath had been aiming for all along.


	31. Chapter 31

It was always the way, Sigrid thought, as she wound her way through the crowd in search of Fraeg. At every feast. That initial overwhelming feeling of having everyone's eyes on her wore off as the evening progressed, and she ended up having a good time. She'd enjoyed the quick chat she'd had with Owen, catching him between songs, though she hadn't attempted to press any more coin into his hands, preferring to wait until he was occupied with playing again and then, behind his back, glancing around her as guiltily as a robber, quietly tipping the entire contents of Fili's coin purse into his lute case and slipping away before he noticed. She'd stopped briefly to speak with Benni, and had been delighted to meet the elusive Sigbert, the two of them sporting matching corsages of blue cornflowers on their shirts courtesy of Benni's trip to the river, and obviously enjoying each other's company. Sigrid was more than happy for her friend, and quietly wondered whether Benni would be returning home with her at the end of her trip, or staying on here in the Iron Hills. She'd also seen Griet sitting with a group of friends at one of the tables, and her friendly nod had been returned with a grin and a significant look towards the side of the hall, where Will and Lis had been standing close together, deep in quiet conversation. She smiled again as she recalled the look on Will's face as he took Lis' hand and leaned down to murmur in her ear. They seemed to have disappeared now, she thought as she surveyed the hall. She had hoped Lis might have pointed her in the direction of her grandfather. The air in the crowded hall, full of merry people of both races, had become very warm, and despite her having finally relaxed enough to enjoy the party atmosphere, she wanted to check with Fraeg whether it wouldn't be better to quietly retire to someplace cooler. She fanned herself with her hand as she watched the dancers eagerly forming up for a circle dance, and gave a little start as beside her someone gently touched her elbow. She looked around and smiled. It was Duf.

"Lady Sigrid, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said genially. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Duf, thank you. It's getting a bit warm in here, that's all," she replied.

His friendly brown eyes grew concerned. "I'd hoped to ask you to help me out with something, but not if the heat's making you unwell, my lady. Do you want me to find Fili? I saw him talking to Nyrath up near the top table."

"No, I'll be fine, Duf, really. What did you want to ask me?"

He gave her a conspiratorial grin and leaned in to lower his voice. "Nib's been my captain and my friend for as long as you've been alive, my lady, and I love him like a brother. But he's a blockhead. There's a lass he's been pining for, I can't tell you for how long, but he won't even so much as talk to her. He thinks she's too good for him. I thought maybe, if you could get him up to dance…"

"You'd ask the lass, and we'd swap halfway through," Sigrid interrupted him, laughing. "The oldest trick in the book. Will Nib fall for it, though?"

"He'll have to," Duf said firmly. "But if you'd rather get out for some fresh air, I can ask someone else. I just thought, if _you_ asked him to dance, he'd never dare refuse…"

"I'm more than happy to help, Duf," she said, giving his arm a pat. "I'll go out for some air afterwards. Who's the lass?"

"I think you know her. Gudrun, daughter of Ginnar."

Sigrid gave an exclamation of surprise. "Gudrun! I do know her. I don't know how she feels about Nib though. Do you have any idea of her returning his feelings?"

"None at all," Duf said cheerfully. "But it's just one dance. I'm sure she'll let him down gently if she's not interested, and at least he won't die wondering. What do you think?"

She thought for a moment, her conscience pricking her. Was it fair to Gudrun, or to Nib either for that matter, to put them in this situation? Probably not. Was it interfering? She had to admit it was. Could she go ahead with the scheme and ask their forgiveness afterwards? Absolutely. She grinned. "Let's do it."

* * *

Fili watched Nyrath's retreating back with narrowed eyes. The hostility he had glimpsed at the hearing that morning was well disguised, here in the hall with hundreds of watching eyes upon him, but it was clear the dwarf didn't like him. What he couldn't figure out was why. Was it simply that the Captain of the Guard resented Fili's interference with his conduct of the trial, and the questioning of his idea of justice, or was there more to it? He was reminded of Hornburi's assessment of the situation, that he should look to someone who bore him a grudge. There was only one person he could think of that fit that category, and it was time to confront her about it.

* * *

With applause and gasping laughter and everyone out of breath, the riotous circle dance ended, and the lead piper called a slower, partnered dance to allow the dancers to recover. Sigrid winked at Duf, who nodded and disappeared through the crowd in search of Gudrun, and made her way towards Nib. He was sitting back at one of the tables with a tankard, observing the crowd philosophically, but not unhappily. She stopped in front of him.

"I've noticed you're not dancing, Nib," she said lightly. "As Vice Captain you really should be setting the example for your troops, you know."

He took a sip of his drink and looked up at her, his eyes twinkling. "Dancing wasn't in the job description last time I looked, my lady. Even if it was, I'd do better sparing everyone the sight, believe me."

"Oh, nonsense," she said, brushing aside his diffidence. "I'll be the judge of that. Come on." She held out her hand.

He paused for a moment, then gave an amused, resigned sigh, and stood up, taking her hand. "If you insist, my lady. There's not another lass in the hall that could have persuaded me, mind."

"That," she replied, as he took her in a respectful hold, "is a great shame, Nib. I'm sure there are dozens of broken hearts here tonight because of it."

He said nothing, but looked out at the crowd and shook his head, his lips working to avoid a smile, as he began circling her around the dance floor.

He was too modest about his skills, she thought, as he twirled her competently through the crowd. He was a fine dancer. But it was very warm in the hall, and airless, and although the pace of the partnered dance was moderate by dwarf standards, she was pink-cheeked and perspiring by the time Duf came dancing casually past with Gudrun and called out to his squad leader.

"Nib! I owe the Lady Sigrid a dance. I'm cutting in." He politely released Gudrun in front of Nib and reached out to take Sigrid from his hold.

Nib gave a little start as he saw Gudrun in front of him, and for a moment Sigrid was worried he would freeze completely, or turn and walk away. Gudrun, however, surprised everyone by taking hold of Nib's arm and placing it around her waist.

"It's too late, Nib. Your secret is out," she said in a teasing voice. "You're a fine dancer, and you're going to dance with me."

A trifle dazed, Nib formalised his hold on Gudrun and turned her into the dance. Sigrid saw his face as he gave Duf a quick glare over Gudrun's shoulder, fully aware that he'd been tricked, and then he turned and she saw Gudrun's, her expression soft, pleased and flattered to be dancing with the handsome Vice Captain, who never danced. At the last moment, just before Nib turned her away through the crowd, Gudrun glanced back and met Sigrid's eye, grinned a small, impish grin, and winked.

"Thank you, my lady," Duf said as he led Sigrid off the dance floor. "He was none too pleased, but he'll thank me later."

"And Gudrun too, seemed more than happy to oblige him," Sigrid said. "Did you see her wink?"

"They can name their first bairn after us," he said with a laugh. He stopped as a pretty, brown-haired dwarf lass slipped up beside him and took his hand. He smiled and put his arm around her, then turned to introduce her to Sigrid. "My lady, this is my Marit. The whole thing was her idea, really. Marit, meet Princess Sigrid."

Sigrid took hold of Marit's hand as the lass made to curtsy. "Please, none of that, Marit. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"It's an honour, my lady, and thank you for your help with that little bit of subterfuge. Nib wouldn't have budged an inch for me," the lass said with a smile. "Though for a minute there I thought he was going to turn tail and run." She looked up at Duf and laid a hand on his chest. "I'm glad you weren't so hard to persuade, love, when we first got together."

Duf gave Marit a squeeze, and laughed. "I knew straight away you were the one for me. What was the point in hesitating?"

Marit rolled her eyes and gave an affectionate shake of her head. "Anyway, it's out of our hands now. My lady, forgive me, but you look a bit warm. Let me get you some water." She moved out from under Duf's arm to reach for the jug on the table behind her, and poured Sigrid a goblet-full.

"Thank you," Sigrid said, accepting the goblet and trying not to gulp it down. The water hit her stomach and though it was refreshing, a queasy pressure began to rise in her chest. She needed to get out of the hall. "I'm sorry, I need to get some air. Would you happen to have seen Healer Fraeg anywhere?"

"I'll find him," Duf said, and swiftly disappeared into the crowd.

"Would you like me to fetch Prince Fili for you, my lady?" Marit asked quietly, her face full of concern. "I can see him just there, speaking with the Lady Marni."

Sigrid looked in the direction Marit indicated and saw Fili deep in a heated exchange with Marni, the lass's sour face resentful and annoyed. She guessed he had at last confronted her about Nyrath's interference with Walcott's trial, and she had no desire to interrupt the conversation, in part because she knew how important it was, but also simply to keep herself out of Marni's firing line. She turned back to Marit with an attempt at a smile.

"No, no, he looks busy. I'd rather slip out quietly with Fraeg, if we can find him."

"Here I am. What seems to be the problem?" she heard from beside her, and she looked around to see Fraeg's white hair and piercing blue eyes. She gave a grateful sigh as he looked her up and down and laid a hand on her forehead.

"You're overheated, young lady. Let's get you some air," he said briskly, and with a smile of thanks to Duf and Marit, Sigrid allowed him to take her hand and lead her out of the hall.

* * *

"You think I'd do that?" Marni snapped, a contemptuous scowl clouding her face. "You think I'd stoop to interfering with the trial of some two-bit, petty cutpurse, that you caught out on the road goodness knows where? Why? What possible reason could I have to do such a thing?"

Fili was taken aback. There could be no doubt Marni was in earnest. Resentful and selfish, yes; but she was no liar. "So you don't know anything about it? Truly?"

Marni drew herself up in indignation. "I'm daughter of the Lord of the Iron Hills, Fili. I will be Lady after my father is gone. I know that may not seem much to you, from atop your fabulous mountain full of gold and jewels, but around here it still means something."

Fili shook his head, his mind racing. "If it wasn't you, and it wasn't Dain, then it must be Nyrath's doing alone. Marni, please, listen to me. Have you noticed anything strange about the trials Nyrath has been conducting?"

Fili hadn't thought it possible for Marni's indignation to rise any higher, but somehow she managed it. "My husband's record against crime is impeccable. There hasn't been a single case of a criminal going free since he took over the administration of justice from my father."

"Not a single case?" Fili repeated. "Really? Not one person found to have been wrongly accused? Not one case dismissed for lack of evidence? Out of how many, Marni? How long has Nyrath been in charge of serving justice?"

"What business is it of yours? You're not lord here, Fili. My father is. You think that just because you have more coin than we do, that you can come here…"

The gold, again. Fili shook his head, looking out across the crowd, his lips pursed. Marni's spite stemmed from simple jealousy, nothing more. He knew by reputation that Nyrath's father was supposedly very wealthy, Nellin the coal miner who had made a fortune from his extensive mining operations beyond the Blue Mountains, and he briefly wondered if she'd married him for his wealth. Then another thought struck him, and he swung back to face her, interrupting her tirade.

"Marni. What happens to the criminals Nyrath convicts? Where do they go?"

She stopped short. "To the mines, of course. To serve out their sentences."

He looked at her intently. "When was the last time you visited the mines?"

She sneered again. "I haven't been out these since I was a lass. I've more important things to be doing, Fili."

"I toured the mines just the other day," he said, his voice measured and even. "Every nook and cranny. There were no convict labourers."

He saw her draw back, a frown of confusion on her face. He'd gotten through to her, finally. "What are you talking about?" she said.

"I saw all the miners, Marni. I spoke to most of them. They were all miners by trade, paid workers. I saw no sign of any convicts, none at all."

Marni was silent. She gave a little shake of her head. "But Nyrath sentences them, I've seen him do it. Lots of times. You must have missed them…"

"I didn't miss anything, Marni. Nyrath has been sentencing criminals to the mines, there's no doubt. Dozens of them, by the sound of it. The question is…"

"Which mines." Marni said quietly. She fell silent again, in shocked contemplation of the conclusion that couldn't help but be drawn from the evidence before her. "He's been sending them back to the Blue Mountains, hasn't he? To his father's coal mines."

"I don't know anything for sure. But it seems that might be the case."

Marni shook her head slowly from side to side, unseeing, stunned and incredulous. "All those people…" she whispered. She suddenly looked up into Fili's eyes, desperate. "No. This can't be true. There must be some sort of mistake. Let's find him, and ask."

Fili searched the hall, the crowds still merrily dancing, talking, laughing and drinking all around them, oblivious to their discussion. Nyrath's distinctive black hair was nowhere in sight. Just then, out of the twirling crowd of dancers, Duf and his lady came spiralling past, and Fili reached out a hand to stop him.

"Duf, tell me, have you seen Nyrath anywhere?"

Duf and his lass both stopped in surprise. "He went out to get Fraeg, last I saw," Duf said, nodding towards the side of the hall. "Some idiot twisted their ankle in the circle dance. Look." There, on the side of the dance floor, was Fraeg, crouched in front of a sorry-looking dwarf propped up gingerly on a chair, bandaging his ankle. Duf gave a shrug, and took his lass in his arms again. "He must have stayed out there to look after Sigrid."

Fili's head instantly flew back towards Duf, and he grabbed hold of his arm. "Sigrid's with Nyrath? What do you mean? Where is she?"

"She was fine, just a bit overheated," Duf replied. "Fraeg took her out for some air, but Nyrath called him back to look after old Twinkle Toes, there." Duf's genial face grew serious as Fili's grip tightened on his arm.

"Where, Duf?" Fili growled.

"The courtyard. That way," Duf said, motioning with his head towards a side exit, and Fili dropped his arm and bolted, scattering startled people left and right, running straight for the door.


	32. Chapter 32

Sigrid leaned her head against the coolness of the stone wall, breathed deeply of the fresh night air, and listened to the sound of the small fountain splashing gently in the centre of the courtyard. After the heat of the hall, it was bliss. She took another breath, moved out from the beneath the overhang of the circular colonnade, and looked up at the stars. They were visible directly overhead, up past the columns and tall stone walls and the mass of creeping vines clinging to the tumbled earth above them. The hill must fallen in on itself, long ago, and been cleared out and shored up by the miners, she thought. It had to have happened naturally: she knew a dwarven-built mine would never have collapsed in such a way. But she wondered at their leaving it open to the sky, uncharacteristically for her husband's people, and thought there must be some technical reason for it, something architectural or engineering-related, maybe. She sighed. Fili would know.

Nyrath came to stand beside her, holding a handkerchief that he had dampened in the fountain.

"Please, my lady, take this," he said, his deep voice smooth and courteous. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him for a moment, and accepted the handkerchief. She wished Fili would hurry up. It had been only a matter of moments after she and Fraeg had come through the door into the courtyard that Nyrath had burst in, requesting the healer return to tend a badly injured dwarf, back in the hall. Fraeg had entrusted her to the Captain of the Guard's care, with a promise to tell her husband where she was. To Nyrath's credit, he had been nothing but polite and attentive, but too many times this week had Sigrid looked up to find his dark eyes on her, narrowed and calculating, to feel entirely comfortable in his presence, and she longed for Fili to arrive.

She dabbed at her forehead and temples with his handkerchief, and offered it back to him. His open hand gestured for her to keep it.

"I'm feeling better, thank you," she said. "I think I'll head back to my room. It's too hot in the hall."

"Of course, my lady. I'd escort you myself, but I know your husband is on the way." He looked briefly around the deserted courtyard. "Before he comes, I'd like to take a moment to ask you a question, if I may." He moved closer. "How many are there?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry?" Sigrid replied, at a loss to decipher his cryptic question.

Nyrath continued in his smooth, deep voice. "It's not that I care, mind. I'm just curious. The tailor, for one. I had hoped to catch you in the corridor last night, on your way back from the Bride's Night, but you were… already occupied, let's say. Then there's the minstrel – that song he sang about you! So brazen! He didn't even try to disguise it. Is Fili really that stupid that he doesn't know what's going on? Or do you have… an arrangement?"

Sigrid shook her head in confusion, trying to make sense of what the black-haired dwarf was saying. "Fili's not stupid, Nyrath. What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come now Sigrid, we understand each other," he said, his tone mild and lilting, as if he was explaining something to a child. "I told you, I don't mind. And tonight, with Nib, and Duf… there's no need to settle for the vice captain, my lady, when the captain is perfectly willing to oblige you." He reached out a hand to run his finger lightly along her jawline.

She recoiled in horror, out of his reach, as the significance of his words sunk in. "You think that I… No… No!"

Nyrath went on as if he hadn't heard her. "The part I like best, and I can't tell you how much I admire you for it, is how you get your fool of a husband to pay for them all. It's masterful, truly. How much of his coin have you slipped to the minstrel since you've been here? And at the hearing this morning, I knew he'd try to pay for that thief, but I thought even he might baulk at the price I put on his head. Which of them was it, Sigrid, the thief, or his brother? Both?" He shook his head with a knowing smile. "It's no matter."

He was mad, deluded. He'd misconstrued everything. She feared it would be no use trying to defend herself, so debased was the tenor of his mind, so she turned to leave. He caught hold of her wrist and stopped her.

"What I _do_ mind," he continued, moving closer still and backing Sigrid against the wall, his eyes cold, "is being cheated. My family's coal mines need labour, Sigrid, and sentencing criminals, guilty or otherwise, is by far the easiest way to get it. Being cheated out of them, like your husband did today… upsets me."

"What are you doing? Let go of me," she said, struggling in his grip. She stared into the cold eyes of the dwarf in front of her in disbelief. He wasn't mad. He was a monster.

There would be no reasoning with him, and there was nowhere to run. But she didn't despair – Fili was coming, even now. She clenched her fists to control their trembling. "Fili will stop you," she whispered.

He smoothed his expression, and his voice became light, almost cheery. "No, he won't," he answered. "I've left three of my guards in the corridor to see to it. Surely you and I can conclude our business without him, my lady."

She drew herself up, and again tried to wrench herself free. "No. We have no 'business' together, Nyrath. Let go of me."

He moved closer, his face now only inches from her own. "Oh, I think we do," he said quietly. "I've more than enough reason, and it's not just the hearings. Even you must be aware, my lady, that a rather large piece of my wife's heart belongs to your husband."

Disgusted and incredulous, Sigrid shook her head. "He would never…"

"Of course he wouldn't. Not Perfect Fili," Nyrath spat out. "No. It's not that. I've invested a lot of time making my wife believe I love her, Sigrid. My business interests here depend on it. But there will always be that piece of her heart that I'll never be able to control. Even before you came, I figured that if I took a piece of _you_ ," he smiled at her, "we could call it even. I had no idea I'd find you so… persuadable."

He was depraved. Where was Fili? It could only be a matter of minutes before he arrived, guards or no guards. How on earth was she to stall Nyrath until then?

Then, over Nyrath's shoulder, at the far side of the courtyard, she caught a glimpse of a pale, frightened face peering at her from around one of the stone columns. Sigrid drew in a sharp breath. It was Lis.

The lass pointed to the right, and Sigrid risked a glance in that direction. Will was there, a look of grim determination on his face, creeping from column to column around the colonnade. He was almost upon them. What he thought he could do, unarmed, against the strength of the dwarf, Sigrid didn't know, but she looked up, away from him, and then off to the left near the door, hoping her glance towards him hadn't betrayed his presence.

Nyrath drew back from Sigrid's face and smiled again, and he was charming, his features outwardly handsome and the very picture of courtesy, and Sigrid saw how easily he could have won over Marni and her family.

"There, now. We do understand each other, don't we, Sigrid?" he purred. His eyes dropped to her lips, and he leaned back in towards her.

He didn't reach her. Will sprang at him from behind, latching his arms around the dwarf's neck.

"Go!" he shouted, and Sigrid ducked under Nyrath's flailing arms and ran towards Lis, the two of them taking shelter behind a column. Then suddenly, with a crunch and the screech of tearing metal, the door to the courtyard came flying off its hinges onto the floor, as an unconscious guard crashed through it. Will looked around, distracted, and Nyrath wrenched the lad's arms from his neck and threw him to the floor, where he lay, unmoving. Lis's scream filled her ears. Then from the doorway she heard the voice she'd been waiting for, and relief flooded through her.

"Sigrid? Where are you? Are you all right?"

Fili stood in the doorway, a double-bitted axe in his hand. He stepped over the prostrate body of the guard he'd taken it from and pointed the head towards Nyrath as his eyes scanned the courtyard. The Captain of the Guard stood frozen, his narrowed eyes fixed on Fili, his face unreadable.

"I'm here, Fili," she called out from behind the column. "I'm not hurt."

"Good. Give me one minute, love," he said. He hefted the axe and spun it in his grip, his voice turning cold as he stared Nyrath down. "It shouldn't take long to deal with this."

"No, Fili. Stop," another voice called from behind him. "That's my job. I'll deal with it." Marni stepped carefully around the guard and the remains of the door, and into the courtyard. She moved up to stand next to Fili, and looked at Nyrath.

"Is it true?" she said.

Nyrath smiled and held out his hands. "Marni, my love. I'm so glad you're here. Come, we need to see your father right away. Tell Fili to put down the axe." He took a step forward, then stopped with a flinch as Fili brandished his weapon. Marni, however, didn't move, nor did she speak, and Nyrath's eyes narrowed as he saw he'd failed to move her. He tried a different angle. "These two have been plotting against you, Marni. They can't be trusted. Please, my love, we need to get out of here."

Beside Sigrid, Lis gave a cry of indignant disbelief. "That's not true! Don't listen to him, Marni!"

Without looking around, Marni raised a hand to cut Lis off. "I said, is it true, Nyrath? Have you been sending people to your family's mines? Innocent people? People who didn't deserve such long sentences?"

Nyrath laughed derisively. "Of course not! Fili's lying, Marni. I told you, he's plotting against you. He wants the Iron Hills for himself. We need to go to your father, now, and tell him everything."

For a moment Marni's shoulders slumped, and she looked at Nyrath and shook her head. Then she took a breath, and drew herself up, squaring her shoulders, and her voice rang out around the courtyard.

"Nyrath, son of Nellin. I hereby strip you of your position as Captain of the Guard. You will be taken to the Iron Hills prison, where you will be held pending a complete investigation…"

Nyrath snarled, all pretence of courtesy falling away. On the floor beside him, Will stirred and moaned, and Nyrath looked down. He picked up Will's body as if he were a rag doll and threw him at Fili, then ran for the door. Fili dropped the axe he was holding, kicking it backward out of Nyrath's reach, and deftly caught Will in his arms.

"He's gone," Marni said bitterly, as Fili lowered Will to the ground. Sigrid and Lis rushed forward, Lis sliding to the ground beside Will and taking his head in her lap, while Sigrid claimed the sanctuary of Fili's arms.

"No, I don't think he is," Fili said grimly, and through the doorway came Duf and Onar, with a wildly struggling, cursing Nyrath pinned firmly by the arms, followed by Nib.

Between curses, Nyrath flung words over his shoulder in Marni's direction. "You'd choose him over me? The dwarf that rejected you, time and again? Don't be a fool, Marni. I'm your husband. We have a child. He despises you!"

Marni walked around to look Nyrath squarely in the face, her expression filled with disgust. "You're right, Nyrath. I would choose him over you, any day. Because he's my kin, and because I've known him all my life, and in all that time, he has never once looked me in the eye and lied to me, as you just did." She turned away, and closed her eyes with a sigh. Then suddenly her eyes flew open, and with a clenched fist she turned and punched Nyrath in the face.

"You're not my husband, not any more. And Nain is not your son. He's mine. Nib, take him away."

Under the watchful eye of the new Captain of the Guard, Duf and Onar dragged Nyrath, still struggling and spitting curses, away up the corridor, and Sigrid heard Onar's voice come echoing down the panelled walls.

"Best wedding ever, hey lads?"

* * *

Fili held Sigrid close, and she relaxed in his arms, breathing in her relief.

"Beloved. I should have been with you," he murmured into her ear. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't afraid, Fili," she replied. "I knew you were coming." He pulled back to give her a soft kiss, then held her close once again.

Marni was looking away from them, down at Will, who was stirring and groaning softly in Lis's lap. "That man needs a doctor," she said. "I'll get Fraeg." She turned to go, and as she passed, Fili unwound an arm from Sigrid to reach out and stop her.

"Marni. He was not worthy of you," he said quietly.

She shook her head, her face still bitter. "Don't," she said, and shrugging off his arm, she turned and left the courtyard.

* * *

Sigrid entered the room and closed the door behind her, glad that her tentative knock had been answered. Marni looked up. Despite the lateness of the hour, she was sorting through a mound of clothing piled on the bed, an open chest beside her.

"Sigrid," she said, her face sour. "Come to gloat, have you?" She tossed the embroidered shirt she was folding into the chest.

"Gloat? No, Marni. Of course not," Sigrid said in a soft voice. "I wanted to see if you were all right."

"Why shouldn't I be?" the lass answered defensively, turning back to the pile of clothes. She pulled out a pair of breeches and began folding them.

"Your husband, the father of your child…"

"No. Not any more," Marni interrupted, not looking up. "Anyway, it's not about me, Sigrid. He betrayed all of us. Adad, Amad, the victims he sentenced, the public, everyone. If you want to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for them." She threw the breeches forcefully into the chest and pulled out another shirt from the pile.

"I don't feel sorry for you, Marni," Sigrid said. "Not in the way you mean it. I'm concerned about how you're feeling. It must be a shock. I wanted to let you know you have my support, if you need it. If you want it."

Marni stopped. She threw the half-folded shirt back on the bed, and faced Sigrid.

"If you think I'm going to fall apart, you can think again," she said.

"No," Sigrid said. "I know a lass with your strength of will can cope with this. It's just that after Laketown, I learned that it's easier if you have someone to talk to. Someone on your side."

Marni regarded Sigrid in silence.

"I know you'll get through it, in time. You could even find happiness again, if you wanted to. With the right person. With someone who loves you as you deserve," she said softly. She paused, and took a deep breath. "I don't blame you, Marni."

She let the statement hang in the silence, and waited. She'd said what she came to say. The rest was up to her.

The lass's eyes still regarded her impassively, but for the first time since Sigrid had met her, the sour look she habitually wore had disappeared from her face.

"What did Nyrath say to you?" the lass said at last.

"More than he should have," Sigrid replied.

Marni didn't respond, but continued her enigmatic gaze, then Sigrid saw her take a breath and let it out in a sigh.

"He really loves you, doesn't he?"

"As I do him."

Marni gave a small nod of her head, and turned back to the pile of clothes. Sigrid gave her a half-smile, kind and wistful and unseen, and made her way to the door. She had almost closed it behind her when she heard Marni call her name. She stopped and looked back around the door into the room. Marni had paused midway through folding another item of clothing and was looking toward her, her eyes unreadable.

"Don't tell him. Please."

Sigrid nodded. "I won't."

* * *

"It was good of you to go, love," Fili murmured, snuggling his wife's body against him and kissing the back of her head.

Sigrid pulled the covers up over them. "I can only imagine how she must be feeling," she said over her shoulder. "She will be all right, though, given time."

"And you, beloved?" he murmured into her hair. Sigrid had suffered no physical harm, but that wasn't what worried him. She sighed.

"I'm all right," she said automatically.

She entwined her arm with his and pulled it tighter around her, and he gave her a comforting squeeze. He felt her take in a huge breath, then another, clutching at his arm, and in silence he held her, and waited for her to tell him as much or as little of what happened in the courtyard as she felt she wanted to.

He didn't wait long. She loosened her grip and turned in his arms to face him, her eyes full of worry.

"Fili," she whispered. "Tell me, in truth – have I done something wrong?"

The question puzzled him. "No, of course not, love. Why do you ask?"

"Nyrath," she said, her voice faltering. "He thought… he thought Owen and Bennon were my lovers. He thought I'd take him for a lover. I never meant to give anyone that impression, Fili, honestly." She choked on a sob. "I'm sorry."

Horror, disgust and finally fury at Nyrath's actions swept through Fili's body in quick succession. Sigrid's feelings, however, were his ultimate concern. He reached up to cradle her face with his hand. "Sigrid, no. No! You're not to blame for that. It's his mind that's the problem, not your behaviour. It doesn't reflect on you. You have to know that. You have nothing to be sorry for."

He pulled her close, her head resting on his shoulder, and felt her sigh and her nod as she took comfort from his words and his embrace. She didn't deserve to be put through this, and the guilt of not being there to prevent it gnawed at him. All he could do was ease her fears and reassure her where the blame truly lay. And tomorrow, he thought grimly, he'd find time to pay a little visit to Nyrath in the prison cells.


	33. Chapter 33

Sigrid finished her toast and ginger tea, and curled back into bed, pulling the covers close around her. She had assured Fili she was fine, and that they needn't cut short their visit on her account, but he'd seen her protestations for what they were, another instance of her old tendency to try to carry on without thinking of herself, and he had insisted. They were going home. She was glad – their trip had been full of pleasurable moments, and she'd enjoyed meeting Fili's family and friends and making new friends of her own, but the fact was she wanted nothing more than to leave the Iron Hills and the memory of last night behind her. Fili had said he had a few things to do, projects to finish off, like the hunting knives he was making for Tilda, and after he'd brought her her breakfast she'd sent him off to do them, heartened by her now more genuine assurances that she'd be fine. Once he'd gone she'd tucked in to her breakfast, but now, in the quiet of the guest room, with nothing to distract her from her thoughts, the truth of her feelings was apparent. She wanted to go because she had no wish to face anyone. How many people had Nyrath spoken to? How many of them had he casually shared his vile assumptions with, that she was being unfaithful to her husband with who knew how many lovers, and how many of those had spread that disgusting lie onward? Fili had assured her it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing in her behaviour that could be reproached, and logically she knew that to be true, yet the guilt and shame of it remained. She wanted to hide here in her room until it was time to leave, and then sneak away without anyone the wiser, away from the lies and gossip and judgemental looks, until it was just the two of them – the three of them – alone on the road with only themselves to answer to and no need to justify anything to anyone.

She was roused by a knock on the door. For a moment she frowned in resentment, and then smiled to herself at the irony. Of course she wouldn't be able to get away without seeing anyone. It was probably Fraeg, come to check on her after last night, or possibly Benni on the same errand. She wouldn't mind seeing either of them, and neither of them would mind that she was still abed. She sat up, tidied her bedgown, and called for whoever it was to come in.

It wasn't Fraeg, or Benni. It was Marni. The lass stopped in the doorway when she saw Sigrid was still in bed, and as her eyes flicked from her to the empty cup and plate on the bedside table and back again, Sigrid hurriedly got out of bed and reached for a dressing gown.

"Marni, please, do come in. Don't mind me, I was having a lie-in," she said. She gestured for Marni to have a seat at the small table at the side of the room and sat down opposite her.

"Yes, I know it was a late night," the lass said, her tone guarded. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I just thought, after what you said… I thought we might see you at breakfast this morning." Marni paused, clearly wanting to say more, and Sigrid waited for her to continue. She drew in a breath, and then her guardedness fell away and her thoughts burst out of her in a rush. "I thought we were going to put the past behind us, and start over, as friends."

Sigrid was taken aback for a moment, then suddenly she understood. The rumours she'd heard at Jorunn's bride's night, that she took breakfast in her room because she thought herself above everyone, had more than likely originated with Marni, but even if they hadn't, the lass believed them. She reached across the table to take Marni's hand.

"I do want that, Marni. I don't intend any slight by not coming to breakfast," she said. Marni looked relieved, then puzzled, and Sigrid hesitated. Marni had had more than her fair share of upsets in the last twenty-four hours. How would she take the news of Sigrid's pregnancy? However much of a shock it would be, though, Sigrid decided Marni deserved the truth.

"Remember when I was sick, the day I arrived? I've got morning sickness," she said. "Fili and I are having a baby. That's why I haven't been coming to breakfast. The smell was making me sick."

Marni froze, the shock evident on her face. She rose from her chair and turned away, and Sigrid felt that whatever understanding they'd begun to develop was being sorely tested. It was only the matter of a moment, though, before Marni turned back to her, her arms held out for an embrace.

"Congratulations, Sigrid. That's wonderful news," she said, clearly genuine in her good wishes despite the stiffness of her tone. "I know you'll both be great parents." Sigrid accepted her embrace and her kind words warmly, knowing what they must have cost Marni to offer.

"Thank you," she replied. "Fraeg's been keeping an eye on me, and it's all going well as far as he can tell, apart from the nausea."

"I know how that feels," the lass went on, and Sigrid saw a hint of a smile appear in the corners of her mouth. "I was sick every day for four months, with Nain. I ended up banning fish from the dining hall until I was over it." She laughed, and looked at Sigrid with an expression that was part mischief and part defiance, as if she expected to be judged and was determined not to let it worry her.

Sigrid surprised her with an answering chuckle. "Great solution. I love it." She saw Marni relax, and they shared a grin. "You know, Fili once offered to empty the West Hall at Erebor to make me feel more comfortable."

"I'd wager he never went through with it, though," Marni said. "He's too soft-hearted, underneath, isn't he?" She paused, and looked down at her hands. "Not like Nyrath." She sighed, and looked back up at Sigrid. "Look, I know we haven't exactly been friends, but I never wanted that to happen to you, never."

Sigrid's expression softened, and she reached across the table to grasp Marni's hand again. "I know you didn't, Marni. It wasn't your fault. And what about you? I can't imagine what you must be going through, to be betrayed in such a fashion."

Marni gave a bitter laugh. "I guess I'm not destined to be happy. But it doesn't matter. I've got Nain to think of now, and I'll do whatever's best for him. I don't care about anything else."

"Yes, that's important. But you're allowed to think about what you need as well, Marni," Sigrid said gently. "It's not weakness to ask for help, or to share the burden. And when you're ready, you're allowed to think of your own happiness again. Nain would want you to be happy, wouldn't he?"

Marni stopped, struck into silence by Sigrid's words. Her eyes widened and glazed over, and Sigrid had the sense that she was contemplating the possibility of a different future, one where she found the sort of happiness she was looking for. It made Sigrid curious.

"What do you want, Marni?" she said softly. "I know it's all happened so suddenly your head must be reeling, but if you could have anything right now, what would it be? What would make you happy?"

The lass snapped out of her reverie and gave Sigrid a sharp, appraising look. Then she leaned in across the table. "I know what I want," she said, her voice low and intense. "I want what you have." Sigrid's shock must have registered on her face, because Marni went on hurriedly. "No, don't misunderstand me. I don't mean Fili. I mean the way he looks at you. I want someone to look at me that way. Like I'm their world. Like the sun rises and sets where I'm standing." She paused, her eyes on Sigrid's face to assess how her comments were being taken. "I want to look at someone and feel that way about them, too. I never had that with Nyrath, not even close."

It was Sigrid's turn to be stunned into silence. She'd known for a long time that Marni still carried a torch for her husband – last night she'd all but admitted it. Last night, though, Marni had also acknowledged and accepted that Sigrid and Fili loved each other truly, and it was that acceptance that had opened the way to the understanding that was now developing between them. But it was only now, on the back of that description of her and Fili's relationship, that Sigrid began to understand the complexity of Marni's emotions. Where her own love had been a lie, the lass had seen the truth of her and Fili's love, and not only had she accepted it, she saw its worth, and wanted something like it for herself. It was humbling, gratifying, and startlingly intimate to be the subject of such scrutiny. It was also like a mirror held up in front of her, reflecting what she already knew, and had never once taken for granted, but which brought with it a renewed appreciation. The love she and Fili had for each other was indeed extraordinary.

"I know everyone thinks I'm selfish," Marni said quietly, interrupting Sigrid's reflections. "I am, probably. But you did ask."

Sigrid shook her head, both to disagree with Marni and to clear her thoughts. "It's not selfish to want to be loved, Marni. I know I'm luckier than most, but I do truly believe there's happiness out there for you, if you search for it."

Marni's lips twisted in a wry half-grin. "No, don't do that. It's a lovely thought, but it's not true. Not everything's possible." She shook herself, and sat up straighter. "But I didn't come here to argue philosophy with you. I want to see your friend, the lad who helped stop Nyrath last night. I want to thank him officially. Will you come with me?"

Sigrid froze, discomfited. She didn't want to see Will. He had heard everything Nyrath had said last night, every vile slur. What if he believed them?

"What is it?" Marni said, studying Sigrid's face. "You don't want to go? Why on earth not?" She looked puzzled, then raised her eyebrows as comprehension dawned. "Don't tell me you're worried what he thinks of you?"

"He heard what Nyrath said about me, Marni. I know it was all lies, but still…"

Marni snorted. "He heard some pretty bad things about me too, don't forget. It doesn't matter. You know the truth - why should you care what anyone else thinks?" She stood up, and grinned at Sigrid. "I've been criticised and judged and gossiped about my whole life. You can't let it worry you. Come on, get dressed."

Sigrid looked up at Marni. Being her friend would be hard work. She was blunt and opinionated and yes, rather selfish. But for all her faults she was also honest, and loyal, and willing to put aside the mistakes of the past. And she was right. Maybe her friendship was just what Sigrid needed.

"All right," Sigrid said with a grin. "Let's go."

* * *

"Fili. Come to kill me, have you?"

Nyrath looked at Fili impassively across the table, the same table where Fili had spoken to Walcott the day before yesterday. His hands were bound with rope, as Walcott's had been, but he had them clasped casually in front of him, seemingly unconcerned about his situation. One of his eyes was bruised and swollen. Fili glanced up at the guards that flanked him left and right.

"Leave us," he said.

The guards hesitated, glanced uncertainly at each other, then turned and left the room.

Fili planted his fists on the table and leaned across it until his face was inches away from Nyrath's, his blue eyes like splinters of ice.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Nyrath stared at Fili, and said nothing. Fili slowly sat back down in his chair.

"I knew it," Nyrath said at last. "You wouldn't kill a bound prisoner in cold blood. You don't have it in you. Not Perfect Fili."

"I'm far from perfect, Nyrath. And there's a first time for everything," Fili said. "After what you tried to do to Sigrid, I'm willing to make an exception."

"Oh please," Nyrath spat derisively. "You don't still believe Sigrid's your innocent, faithful little wife, do you?"

"No, I don't," Fili said. "I know she is. I also know that you've made her suffer. And what I want, more than anything, is to make you suffer in return. What's to stop me, Nyrath? Who's to stop me? Tell me that."

Fear flickered for the first time in Nyrath's eyes. He glanced back towards the door.

"Guards! Come back! I demand you get back in here! Guards!"

"They're not taking orders from you any more. Now answer my question."

Nyrath shrank in his chair. "You wouldn't… an unarmed prisoner…"

Fili leaned forward, icy cold and menacing, and let Nyrath squirm. Then he spoke. "You're right. I wouldn't. Not because I don't have it in me, but because I know it's not the right thing to do. That's the difference between us, Nyrath. Now get out of my sight." He sat back in his chair. "Guards! Come and take this prisoner back to his cell."

The door opened and the two guards re-entered, each taking hold of one of Nyrath's arms and lifting him to his feet. As they turned and marched him towards the door, the ex-Captain of the Guard called out over his shoulder.

"You fool. She's too good for you. Too smart. You don't deserve such a woman."

"Oh, I know I don't," Fili said as he stood up, looking down and casually brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shirt. Then he looked up and eyed Nyrath levelly. "I know she's far too good for the likes of me. But I live every day as to try and be worthy of her. It's why you're still alive."

* * *

"Did you get everything done that you wanted, my love?" Sigrid asked, as she leaned over Fili's shoulder where he sat taking off his boots, and ran her hands down his chest.

He caressed her arms, and turned his head to nuzzle into her neck, and breathed in the sweet smell of her. "I did. How about you? How was your day?"

"Interesting. I had a long chat with Marni, and then we went to see Will. Marni's going to present him with a medal of honour for his part in capturing Nyrath. It's funny – he doesn't remember anything about it, from the blow to his head, and he was as surprised as anything to hear what he'd done. Lis hasn't left his side. I told her we're leaving, and she and the lasses are going to keep on searching the archives for us and send on anything they find."

"That's kind of them. Let's stay to see Will's presentation, then get going as soon as we can after that. What do you think?"

"Sounds perfect." She squeezed his chest, and he took hold of her hands to draw her around to sit on his lap. He wanted to look at her. His last words to Nyrath were still on his mind, that he lived every day so as to be worthy of her love. It was true, and he hoped he was.

He noticed she had tilted her head at him and was looking at him wonderingly.

"What is it, love?" he murmured.

"Something Marni said. It's nothing." She lifted a hand to his face and caressed the dimple in his cheek with her thumb. He caught her hand and kissed it, and she tugged gently on one of his braids. Then she grinned.

"Do you look at me like the sun rises and sets where I'm standing?"

He grinned and snuggled her closer. "Absolutely. Sun, moon, stars, the lot. They all revolve around you, beloved, and you put them to shame with your beauty. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," she replied. She leaned in for a kiss, and stopped short, her lips whispering against his. "Good answer."


	34. Chapter 34

Nyrath leaned in, his dark eyes on Sigrid's lips, his breath in her face.

"No!" She struggled in his grasp, and lashed out with her free hand, striking at him and pushing him away. "No!"

He caught her hand and held it, and she was trapped, but still she kept struggling. She would never give in, not to him. Not to anyone.

From far away he called to her. "Sigrid! Sigrid!"

She woke with a start, her heart pounding and her breath rapid and gasping. It was dark, and she looked around blindly, trying to get her bearings. She was in her bed, in the guest room in the Iron Hills, and it was Fili that was beside her, holding her wrists loosely and calling her name. With a shuddering breath her body let go of its tension, and her arms went limp in Fili's grasp.

"Fili," she breathed, the sound half whimper and half sob. He gathered her close.

"Beloved," he murmured back, low and fervent, relief evident in his voice. "It was just a dream. You're safe. You're with me."

She nestled her head into his broad shoulder, and slid her hand up his chest to his neck, taking comfort in his warmth and strength. She had nothing to fear from Nyrath. The dream was just an echo, a lingering dread of what might have been. It wasn't real. She sighed and nestled closer to her husband, and kissed his neck, details of the nightmare already fading, then let sleep claim her again.

Fili felt Sigrid kiss his neck and relax in his arms. He'd woken instantly at the first shove of her hands, and it had taken him only a moment to realise that she was asleep and dreaming. There was no possibility of him being hurt by her blows, but he had grabbed hold of her hands to prevent her from injuring herself as he called her name and shook her gently to wake her. Now that she had settled, he snuggled her close and felt her drifting back off to sleep. He hadn't needed to ask her to know what her dream was about – amongst the disjointed, half-articulated cries she'd made in her sleep, he'd heard her utter Nyrath's name.

He didn't sleep for a long time.

* * *

"Our last day," Fili said as he lay stretched out on the bed beside Sigrid, watching her tuck in to her breakfast. "I've finished Tilda's knives, but I've still got a few other things to take care of. Do you have anything planned, love?"

He was watching her carefully, alert for any sign of the fear or anxiety that had produced her nightmare. There didn't seem to be any. She smiled at him as she sipped her tea.

"I want to see Val, and Frosti and Lofar and the other elders before we go," she said. "I told them I would visit again, and I'd hate to disappoint them." She gave him a teasing look over her tea cup. "I promise not to come back smelling like apples."

"Mmm. Good," Fili said with a half-smile, his concern dampening his response to her teasing. Perceptive as always, Sigrid picked him up on it straight away.

"You're not laughing. What's wrong?"

He paused and drew in a breath before he spoke. "You had a dream last night, a bad one. I had to wake you up. Do you not remember it?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "You woke me up? I don't remember." Then her forehead furrowed, and she looked at him shrewdly. "You're worried about me. Don't be. I'm fine, Fili."

He sat up and reached a hand out to her. "Ah, beloved, of course I'm worried. You were dreaming about Nyrath. I heard you say his name."

She turned and placed her tea cup on the bedside table, and looked back at him, her eyes soft. She cupped his cheek with her hand.

"It was one bad dream, my love. I don't even remember it. If it happens again, then you have my permission to worry all you want. But for now, why don't you go and do whatever it is you need to do, so we can get out of here and go home."

He gazed at her for a moment, then gave a resigned smile. "All right. But don't think I won't have my eye on you, Sigrid mine."

* * *

Sigrid ran her hands down her thighs over the smooth hide of the riding breeches, craning her neck around to see her backside. She looked back up and smiled at her friend Bennon, pleased and grateful for his efforts. "They're perfect, thank you, Benni."

"I've cut them low to fit under your stomach, not that there's much there at the moment, but that should make them more comfortable for you," Bennon said, pointing out the features as he mentioned them. "And with laces to fasten them instead of buttons, you'll be able to loosen them off when you need to."

She turned one leg out to the side to examine the workmanship along the seams. It couldn't be faulted. "I can't believe you finished them so quickly. You must have worked day and night."

Bennon grinned. "Sigbert helped. Would have taken me ages otherwise."

Sigrid nodded, considering her friend wonderingly, with a hint of a grin in the corners of her mouth. "Well, please pass on my thanks." Her eyes lingered on him a moment more, then she abruptly resumed a more businesslike manner. "I should give him some recompense for his work," she said, straightening up and smoothing her hands over the breeches again. "What do you think would be appropriate?"

"Oh, stop it, my darling girl," Bennon said. "I can see you looking at me. You're too polite to ask, so I'll tell you. I don't know if it's serious. But I'd like to find out. If you could find a way to manage without me for a few more weeks, I'd like to stay and… see what happens."

Sigrid smiled as her heart filled with tenderness for her friend. "Oh, Benni, of course," she said softly. "Stay as long as you like." She held out her arms, and Bennon stepped into them for a quick, firm embrace, keeping his face turned away from her and reaching for his handkerchief as he let her go. She rubbed his arm. "How will I do without you?"

"You won't have to," he said brightly, turning back towards her with a last sniff, blinking his eyes rapidly to control his tears. "Don't think you can get rid of me that easily. I _will_ be coming back, one way or another. But in the mean time you can humour me by letting me dress you tonight. I know it's not a feast, but it is your last night here in the Iron Hills. They'll have a dance at the very least."

"With pleasure, Benni dear," Sigrid said. "I've promised to visit the elders this afternoon, but after that, I'm all yours."

* * *

Lis accompanied Sigrid on her return visit to the elders that afternoon. It was the first time Lis had left Will's side since their encounter with Nyrath, and she was pleased to report to Sigrid that he was fully recovered from the blow he'd taken to the head, although the gap in his memory would never be filled.

"He's fine, but Grandadad's told him he has to stay in his room and rest if he expects to come to the dance tonight," she said as they walked through the corridors towards the elders' wing. "They announced it at breakfast. Grandadad doesn't want him to over do it."

"I can't wait to see him. I've got so much to thank him for," Sigrid said gravely.

"He's glad you're all right. We both are," Lis said, reaching out for Sigrid's hand. She stopped, drawing Sigrid to a halt, and looked briefly around the deserted corridor before speaking in a low voice. "Sigrid, I want you to know, I'll never tell anyone what Nyrath said about you, or about Marni either. Please give her my assurances about that."

Sigrid squeezed her hand. "I will. Thank you Lis. I appreciate it, and I'm sure Marni will too."

She gave Lis a smile and a nod, and turned to continue down the corridor. An uneasy feeling had turned in her stomach at the mention of Nyrath's name, and she placed her hand on it to settle herself as she walked. Then, belatedly, she remembered the conversation she'd had with Fili that morning, and thought to herself that perhaps her encounter with Nyrath had affected her more than she realised.

* * *

"Here they are!" Val cried out in delight as Lis and Sigrid entered the warm, panelled room the frail elders called home.

"Hey lass! I heard you killed someone at the feast the other night," Frosti quipped from his seat at the table opposite Lofar, their customary chess game well underway.

"I heard someone killed you," Lofar said, his eyes on the board and his hand poised over his pieces.

Frosti shook his head in exasperation. "You dolt! Does she look dead to you?" he said, pointing towards Sigrid with an open hand.

"I never said she _was_ dead. I said I _heard_ it," Lofar replied complacently. He placed a chess piece in position and looked up with a triumphant smile. "Checkmate. Fifty-five to fifty-six."

"Fifty-seven," Frosti grumbled under his breath.

"Oh for goodness sake," Val said, tapping on the arm of her wheeled chair with her knuckles. "Clods. Come here, lassies." Val beckoned them over to where she was stationed, away from the rest of the group, in the chimney corner. They drew up chairs next to her.

"You're leaving soon, aren't you, lass?" she said, looking up at Sigrid, her eyes bright in her wizened face.

"Tomorrow," Sigrid replied. "But I couldn't go without seeing you, Val dear."

"Then we don't have much time," Val said. She held out her hand, her gnarled fingers grasping a slip of parchment, and gestured for Sigrid to take it. "You need to go to this place before you leave." She looked up at Lis. "You'll take her, won't you?"

Sigrid unfolded the parchment and looked at it in puzzlement. "What is this, Val?"

"It's directions. You need to go to this house. Trust me." The old dwarrowdam looked around darkly at the other elders scattered around the room, reserving a special glare for Lofar and Frosti. "I can't say any more, I don't want the others to know. You heard them, they're terrible gossips. Please, lass, just do as I ask."

"Of course, Val," Sigrid said, baffled. She showed Lis the slip of parchment. Lis took it and examined it, before looking back at Val with an amused expression.

"Have you been doing some research of your own, Val?" she said.

"I have," Val replied, her body quivering in nervous excitement. She held out her hands to Sigrid. "I wish you all the best, lass. Now stop wasting time, and get going."

Sigrid smiled and leaned down to kiss Val on the cheek. "It's never a waste of time to talk to you, Val. Fare well. I hope I'll see you again."

Val smiled. "You may yet, lass. Fare well."

* * *

Lis led Sigrid through the bustling streets of the town towards the river Redwater. This stretch of the river was lined with narrow, irregular timber houses, not the most prosperous in town but well-kept, painted in a variety of gaudy colours, and each with yards and yards of clotheslines in front of them, hung with clothing, sheets and towels, flapping in the breeze. A dozen or so washerwomen, their sleeves rolled up and their hair bound in kerchiefs, were working at a dozen or so wash tubs on the banks of the river, and a gaggle of a dozen or so small children, human and dwarven both, raced back and forth along the bank in a game that none but they could follow.

Lis looked at the parchment. "'Third house down on the riverfront. Astrid.' That's all it says."

"This is the third house," Sigrid said, looking up at the blue-painted façade of the narrow, two-storey house. They ducked around the clothes flapping on the washing lines, and stopped in front of a young woman, pretty, with striking auburn hair cascading from the grey kerchief around her head, busy scrubbing a lathered, wet bundle against a washboard at her tub. Along with most of the other curious washerwomen, she stopped scrubbing and stood up, looking at the visitors, one hand on her hip.

"You can leave your things at the shop in town," she said in a matter-of-fact, friendly voice. "There's no need to bring them all the way down here."

"I'm sorry, we're not here to get anything washed," Sigrid said. She stepped forward. "Are you Astrid?"

"Who wants to know?" called one of the women from two tubs down.

"I'm Sigrid and this is Lis," Sigrid said quickly, with an apprehensive glance at the burly woman who had spoken. "We just want to talk to you, if that's all right."

"I know who you are," the young woman said softly. "You'd best come inside." She gestured for Sigrid and Lis to precede her towards her house, then paused to call out to the children playing on the riverbank. "Freya, Nali, come inside for a minute please."

"Are you sure, Az?" the burly woman called as two children left the game and came running past her towards Astrid. Two dwarven children, with bright, red-gold hair. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Astrid nodded to the burly woman. "It's all right, Nanni. This'll only take a moment."

* * *

"I'm sorry, I'm all wet," Astrid said as she followed Sigrid and Lis inside and gestured for them to sit at the small kitchen table. She wiped her hands on a tea towel as the two children, a lass about six years of age and a lad of three, peeked shyly at them from the folds of her damp skirts on either side of her. "They don't mind. They're used to it," Astrid laughed, then she stopped, and placed her hands protectively around the children's heads. "My foster children," she said defensively.

"Yes," Sigrid said, with a glance at Lis. She realised it would be no use asking Astrid directly for information. The lass had no reason to trust her. She tried approaching from a tangent.

"Your friends are very protective of you," she said. "Nanni, the other women… it sounds like they look out for you."

"We look out for each other," Astrid said with a shrug. "All the girls do."

"And some with more reason to need protection than others, I'll wager," Lis said softly. Astrid said nothing, her lips pursed and her head held high, but her hands tightened around the two children, holding them to her sides.

Lis looked Astrid squarely in the eye.

"Why did you call them in here, Astrid?" she said, nodding at the two children.

"What do you mean?" Astrid said with an incredulous laugh. "They live here. It's their home."

"You could have left them playing with the others by the river, and we'd have left, never the wiser," Lis went on. Astrid shifted from one foot to the other, nervous, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Lis, please…" Sigrid said, seeing that Astrid was uncomfortable. She held out a hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry. You're right, Sigrid," Lis said. "Let's go." She got up to leave.

Astrid closed her eyes and pulled in a huge breath. "No. Don't," she said. She opened her eyes, and they were full of emotion, pleading for understanding. "Please stay."

"If you know who Sigrid is, then you know why we're here, Astrid," Lis said softly as she sat back down. "Don't let her go home without telling her anything you can. Please."

Astrid gave a shuddering sigh and let go of Freya to pull out a chair, sitting down and lifting Nali onto her lap, then reclaiming Freya with an arm around her at her side.

"You don't know what it's like. What people are like," the lass said desperately. "We daren't tell anyone. My family, my husband's family, they were against us from the start. But even then, we would have ignored them all, if it weren't for my husband's job. The Captain said he'd sack anyone caught 'fraternising,' as he put it."

" 'The Captain'? Do you mean Nyrath?" Sigrid said, with a glance at Lis. "If your husband's a guard, I think he's going to find some changes for the better have taken place recently."

"Astrid, your husband isn't Finn, by any chance?" Lis said with a knowing look in her eye.

Despite trying to hide it, Astrid's face broke into a reluctant smile.

"He's my cousin, a lieutenant in the Guards," Lis said. She nodded at the boy on Astrid's knee. "And this young lad's the spitting image of him."

* * *

They stayed two hours, playing with the children and listening to Astrid recount anything she could remember about her pregnancies and deliveries. She'd carried both bairns a touch over eight and a half months, and they were born small, just over five pounds each, but healthy and robust, their dwarven constitutions more than compensating for their small size in human terms. Their birth weight had meant the deliveries had been easy, too, with a midwife on call but not needed in the end, her friends among the washerwomen more than experienced at birthing. It was the sort of information Sigrid had been longing for, ever since she'd first learned of her own pregnancy, and she couldn't express her thanks to Astrid enough. She encouraged her to come up to Dain's halls for the dance that evening, with assurances that she would find only a warm welcome, and no threat to her husband's position as a member of Dain's guard. They left Astrid with more thanks, receiving a couple of quick, bashful hugs from her daughter and rather more enthusiastic ones from her son, and set off back to the halls.

"How did you know, Lis?" Sigrid asked, once they were out of earshot.

"How did I know what, that she wanted to talk? Like I said, she could have left the bairns out playing. She called them over, and made sure you saw them," Lis replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "Of course she wanted to talk about them."

"I would have left. I wouldn't have pressed her at all," Sigrid said, the implications of that giving her pause.

"And besides, if I could find someone else in the world who was in the position I've found myself in, there's no way I wouldn't want to talk to them," Lis added with a rueful laugh, looking at Sigrid bashfully.

Sigrid gave her a smile full of sympathy, but with more than a hint of mischief mixed with it. "Serious, then?"

"Maybe," Lis said lightly, avoiding Sigrid's gaze. "We'll see. But the bigger question, for me anyway, is this. How on earth did Val find her?"


	35. Chapter 35

"Silence, please."

Marni rose in her place at the honour table, a grim-faced Dain on one side and an empty space on the other, to address the crowd in the dining hall as the last remnants of their meal were cleared away. With nudges and nods towards her, the hubbub in the hall gradually quieted. She looked down at her hands for a moment, then took a breath, squared her shoulders, and faced the eyes of the crowd.

"No doubt, many of you will have noted Nyrath's absence from this table and from his duties over the last two days," she said, her voice ringing out through the hall. "And no doubt, many of you will have heard rumours as to why. My father and I decided to wait for the conclusion of the investigation before making a public announcement, but I am now in a position to let you all know what has been going on." She paused and took another breath, surveying the faces of the people in front of her. It seemed as if she was summoning the courage to go on, but Sigrid knew that wasn't the reason. Courage was one thing Marni did not lack.

"The former Captain of the Guard, Nyrath, son of Nellin," she went on, "has been found guilty of betraying the trust my father placed in him, by subverting justice for his own profit, through lies, deception and subterfuge. He has been stripped of all rank, honour and privilege. I no longer call him my husband, and he has forfeited all rights with regard to our son Nain." She paused once more as gasps and a low, shocked murmuring rippled through the crowd. She let the news sink in, then held up a hand for silence again, and continued.

"We were deceived in him, none more than myself. That is the only excuse I can offer for bringing this evil among you," she said, and stopped, looking down at her hands again. When she looked up, Sigrid recognised the same sort of steely resolution in her eyes that Fili and Thorin sometimes had, and briefly wondered if it was a family trait.

"I would have you know, I will not rest until those he unfairly sentenced are brought back and their trials re-heard. And in time, by the most faithful execution of our duties, we hope once again to restore your confidence in us. In me."

Beside Marni, Dain glowered at the crowd, as if daring them to find fault with his daughter's words or to blame her for the actions of her former husband, but before the low murmuring could resume, Marni spoke again.

"On behalf of my father the Lord Dain, I appoint Nib, son of Mjothvitnir, Captain of the Guard of the Iron Hills."

More gasps greeted this announcement, but they were ones of surprise and approval, and were accompanied by applause, with whoops and cheers from the troops. His face red above his brown beard, Nib rose from his bench in the crowd and made his way towards the honour table. Marni stepped out from behind it and motioned to an assistant nearby, who brought forward a tray, from which the lass took a rolled-up parchment to present to Nib. He accepted it with a bow, and with a nod to Dain and a wink for Sigrid and Fili, he turned and made his way back to his bench, more applause and claps on the back marking his progress.

"I also wish to recognise the brave actions of someone who, at risk of his own life, assisted in the capture of the betrayer and prevented him from perpetrating further evil. Willgeir, will you come forward please?"

Also blushing furiously, Will stood up from his seat next to Lis and Fraeg, his aunt and brother sitting opposite, and came forward to receive his reward. There was a smattering of polite applause from the crowd, much less than for Nib, apart from Will's family and friends who were standing and clapping as loudly as possible, and Sigrid realised it was because they didn't know. No-one knew of the events in the courtyard the night before last but for those involved. She was grateful that it was so, and suspected it was as much for her sake as for Marni's that the lass had seen fit not to give any details, but at the same time she felt it was rather hard luck on Will to have played such an important part and not to receive more recognition. But from the look on his face, pleased, bashful and proud, as Marni took a medal from the tray and passed the red ribbon over his head to hang about his neck, followed by the presentation of a citation on parchment and a purse full of coin, Sigrid guessed he thought he was receiving recognition enough.

"There is one other to whom I wish to publicly express my gratitude tonight," Marni said as Will returned to his seat and the congratulations of his friends and family. "One without whose counsel and whose courage we may never have uncovered the betrayal at the heart of the realm. One who, along with his wife Sigrid, I am honoured to call my kin, and my friend." Marni turned towards Sigrid and Fili, and a hint of amusement lurked in the corners of her mouth at the surprise. "Fili, will you come up here please?"

Sigrid clapped her hands in delight, and turned to Fili. He had leaned back in his chair, and was eyeing Marni with a humorous, sceptical look from half-lowered lids, his mouth working to avoid a smirk.

"No, you don't owe me anything, Marni," he said.

"I'm not going to give you anything," she replied with a wry grin. "Just a hug. Come on."

Sigrid gave her husband a nudge in the ribs. "Go on. You deserve it, my love."

Fili rolled his eyes in resignation, and with an exaggerated sigh rose from his seat to walk around to the front of the table, holding his arms out to Marni. They embraced, with a kiss on each cheek, and Sigrid joined the applause of the crowd as they showed their appreciation of the gesture. As she let Fili go, Sigrid was surprised to see Marni turn and hold her hand out towards Sigrid.

"You too, Sigrid," the lass said. Sigrid rose and came forward, and she and Marni embraced, and with a kiss warm on each cheek she stood with her hand in Marni's as the lass asked the people of the Iron Hills to thank the two of them for their visit.

* * *

"If you'd told me at the beginning of this trip, that by the end of it I would be telling you to go get in Marni's arms, I'd never have believed you," Sigrid murmured teasingly in Fili's ear as he circled her around the dance floor. He looked back over his shoulder at Marni, alone at the honour table.

"It feels awful to say it, but this situation might be the making of her," Fili whispered back. "You have to admit she's handled it well. She's thinking of others, not just herself."

"She was very generous to Will," Sigrid said, and Fili looked towards the side of the hall, where Will sat with his arm around Lis, his brother and his aunt opposite, all seemingly talking at once, presumably making plans for the shop he and his brother would now be able to open with the coin Marni had presented to him.

"I'm glad for him," he said, and then he chuckled. "I'm also glad I've also got out of paying that enormous surety for Walcott. Ten thousand gold coins? I don't have anything like that on me. I'd have had to send back to the Mountain for it."

He felt rather than heard Sigrid's soft laugh, and her arms tightened around him. "Ah, my love. You're so generous you'd give away your last copper if someone needed it," she whispered in his ear, nuzzling against his cheek.

He held her body close to spin her deftly around in the dance. "Good thing I own a mountain full of treasure then," he said with a grin. "Or would you fancy being married to a destitute wandering tinker?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sigrid said with an answering grin, looking around at the dancers around them. "Depends how handsome he is. What's his name?"

"Ha ha, very funny," he replied complacently. "Look, Nib's up and dancing. That's a first. I don't think I've ever seen him dance before."

"He just needed the right incentive," Sigrid said, her voice soft again. "And there's Jorunn and Onar. They look happy."

Fili turned to see Onar holding Jorunn close, the two of them swaying slowly from side to side, their eyes closed, barely moving despite the upbeat tempo that Owen and the other musicians had set for the dance. Onar opened his eyes lazily, and Fili saw his gaze brighten as his eyes fell on Sigrid. He gave her a broad grin, and emphatically mouthed the words "thank you" to her across the dance floor.

"Thank you for what, love?" Fili said, bemused, as he turned Sigrid away in the dance again.

"I'm not exactly sure, but I suspect it might have something to do with a little discussion we had at Jorunn's Bride's Night. And what happens on Bride's Night stays on Bride's Night, I'm afraid," she said lightly.

He smiled and shook his head at his wife affectionately. The dance ended, and the crowd applauded the musicians, before Owen stood and held up a hand to quieten them.

"Thank you, you're most kind," he said. "The next song is one that I have not performed in a long time, but I wanted to offer it to you, both in honour of our esteemed visitors," here he paused to incline his head towards Fili and Sigrid, "and to thank you for your hospitality to me as a guest. My fellow musicians have exceeded every imaginable expectation in learning it as quickly and as well as they have, and for that I thank them. It is a song of love. Old love, new love, love treasured or taken for granted or rekindled when you thought all hope was lost, please, take someone you love in your arms and let this song remind you of what you have." He bowed his head to the crowd, then turned back to the other musicians and gave them a grateful smile. He nodded slowly to them to set the tempo, and they began to play.

The music washed over Fili, a slow, rhythmic pulse of bass tones underneath a succession of sweet, yearning chords. He held his hand out to Sigrid, who locked onto his gaze from underneath her lashes as she moved into his embrace and placed her arms around his neck. The couples already on the floor were joined by others: Dain and Madlen, Duf and Marit, Lis and Will. Over Sigrid's shoulder he saw his friend Finn leading a young woman with stunning auburn hair to the floor, and then under his hands Sigrid's hips started swaying to the music, and everything else faded into insignificance.

Somewhere in the background of his awareness he still heard Owen's voice crooning, but otherwise all his attention was concentrated on Sigrid's face, and the feel of her body moving against him. Her eyes were dreamy and half-lidded, and every so often they closed completely as she gave herself up to the rhythm.

" _Oh, my love, it's only your smile I want beside me…"_

He knew what Owen was doing. He was weaving a spell with his music, like he had for Onar and Jorunn at the feast. Only this time it wasn't a reverent, uplifting benediction.

" _It's only your arms I want holding me…"_

It was slow, sultry and luxurious. It was seduction.

" _The taste of your lips… It's only you I want…"_

Sigrid pressed her body to his, and they swayed from side to side, his hands on her hips, and he let the feel of her, the scent of her, overtake his senses. His own eyes were nearly closed when she whispered in his ear.

"Fili."

Before he answered her, he nuzzled into her hair to find her earlobe, and tugged it gently between his teeth. He felt the tiny shiver that coursed through her body at his touch.

"What is it, amrâlimê?"

"Mmm. How long do we have to stay here?"

He drew back to look at her. Her gaze was direct, and full of desire.

"It's our last night in the Iron Hills, my love," she murmured. She pulled him back in to breathe into his ear. "Our last night in a bed."

He looked quickly out over his shoulder. Dain and Madlen were dancing cheek to cheek, eyes closed, with small, dreamy smiles on their faces. More than a few of the other couples had already slipped away, to private corners, or left altogether for places even more private. Finally he glanced back towards the honour table. Marni was nowhere in sight.

"Let's go."

He took her by the hand, and as he turned to leave, from amongst the musicians he caught Owen looking at them, with a knowing wink and a half-grin. Fili returned his grin with a nod, and led Sigrid out of the hall.

Once inside their guest room, Sigrid turned and started pulling urgently at his clothes. She'd thrown his shirt to the floor and was fumbling with his breeches when he caught her hands and held them out wide as he pulled her body towards him.

"There's no rush, beloved," he murmured. "Here." He placed her arms around his neck, and slid his hands down the sides of her body to rest on her hips, low down where he could direct her movements. He pulled the lower half of her body against his, his hands skimming the roundness of her buttocks, and ground into her, slowly, rhythmically, in tempo with the song that was still running through his head. She closed her eyes and exhaled, melting against him.

"Ahh," she sighed. "I get it. Slow. Like the song."

"Mm-hm," he said in agreement. "Slow, like the song." He nuzzled against the column of her neck, all the while keeping up the swaying, grinding movements of their hips, and slid one hand up between them to cup her breast and rub his thumb back and forth across her nipple. He felt her sag against him for support as she quivered, and then her lips claimed his and he let her draw him backwards towards the bed.

Without breaking the kiss, he laid her gently down, his body hovering over hers on hands and knees, and then let her lips go to begin slowly and deliberately to press kisses down her neck. Her gown was silky smooth, a lovely green colour that made her hair and skin seem rosier by comparison, and he ran his finger around the neckline, over the swell of her breasts, before pushing the strap off her shoulder and peeling it back to give his lips access.

"They're bigger," he hummed appreciatively against her skin, his tongue swirling on her and sucking her nipple into his mouth.

She sank her hands into his hair and held him to her. "They're tender, too. Gentle, my love."

He caressed her as softly as he could, and was rewarded with her sensuous, breathy sighs and soft whispers of his name. She sighed again as he travelled down her body, over the silky fabric of her dress, until his face was level with her knees, and he locked his eyes on hers as he reached for the hem of her full, floaty skirt and started sliding it up her legs. Her breath caught, and her back arched, and she had to tilt her head down to keep contact with his eyes as he kissed the skin of her inner thighs.

"I love that you're naked underneath your gowns," he said throatily, blowing a soft stream of air against her.

"Benni says it ruins the fall of the skirt if I wear linens," she said, her dazed voice explaining her incongruously pragmatic words. Fili gave a low chuckle.

"And here I thought it was so I could do this," he said, and slowly, wetly, he slid his tongue into her sex.

Sigrid's eyes closed, and her head fell back. He ran his tongue over her in slow motion, around her bud, up and down her folds, and down into her core, revelling in the taste of her desire and the soft, involuntary sounds she made as he pleasured her. He lingered there a long while, building her up slowly, and then crawled up her body to let her shove down his breeches and guide him inside her.

He closed his eyes as he moved inside her slowly, burying his face in her neck, her gown rucked up between them, and slid his hands along her forearms and over her palms to entwine his fingers with hers. The tempo he set was the rhythm of the music, which still echoed through his mind, slow and luxurious, and their grinding hips echoed their movements on the dance floor. He maintained the rhythm until he felt himself wanting to speed up, and then he stopped, and slid back down Sigrid's body, over the crushed, damp silk of the gown, to place his lips and tongue on her again.

She moaned, and he felt her reach around behind her to fumble with the laces of her gown, but he didn't stop. He held her body to his lips as she pulled her gown up over her head and threw it on the floor, then collapsed back onto the bed, and he slid one palm up over the smooth skin of her softly rounded stomach to her breast. This time he didn't linger on her: he pulsed at her bud with his lips and swirled at it with his tongue relentlessly, and he felt her hand fist into his hair, and heard her cry out, and he held on to her as she peaked, pulsing at her again and again, until she crested the wave and came down the other side. Her body relaxed its hold, her breath panting and her heart pounding, and she pulled his head up towards her.

"Come here," she whispered, again taking hold of him and guiding him inside her. He entwined his fingers with hers again, and resumed the slow rhythmic tempo of the dance, letting the sensation of driving into her wet heat overwhelm him, and they moved as one. They were one body, one heart, one soul, now and always. He could hold on no longer, and let go, intensifying their tempo, and he shattered. He spilled himself inside her again and again, his heart hammering in his chest, and then he collapsed, gathering her to him and holding her close.

"Sigrid, beloved," he gasped, trying to catch his breath and lapsing into a stream of Khuzdul endearments as she caressed his face and kissed him tenderly.

"My love. My Fili," she murmured back.

He grinned weakly, and gave a half-laughing, satisfied sigh.

"Ah, my sweet love. Do you remember we said there had to be a tale behind the way Owen drops your hands when he sees me? I'll wager all the gold in the Mountain that that song has everything to do with it."


	36. Chapter 36

It was hot. It wasn't the room temperature though, Sigrid thought as she threw back the covers, hoping it would help her cool down and get back to sleep. The room was the same even temperature it always was, deep in the hillside, through the air felt close and still. The heat came from her. She was boiling, a sticky sheen of sweat prickling at her forehead and neck and in the small of her back. Beside her, Fili was sound asleep, his breathing regular and deep, with a serene look of contentment on his face, and despite her discomfort Sigrid smiled tenderly. It would be a pity to wake him when he looked so peaceful. She carefully climbed out of bed and pulled on a dressing down, and slipped as silently as she could out of the guest room in search of some fresher air.

She found her self in the courtyard before she knew she'd headed in that direction. Last time she was here, she'd had to step carefully through the shattered remains of the door, destroyed when Fili had thrown the guard through it, but the mess had since been cleared away. She looked up. The stars were visible through the open roof above her head, and through she couldn't see the moon directly, there was enough ambient light to let her see her way amongst the columns to the fountain in the centre. She found a handkerchief in the pocket of her dressing gown and dampened it in the water, dabbing at her forehead and lifting her hair to wipe the back of her neck, and she sighed. What had happened to that guard? she wondered. He'd been working for Nyrath, but still, she hoped he was all right. She set the handkerchief down to lean over the pool and scoop a handful of water up to her face.

"Sigrid."

She jumped and cried out in shock, water flying everywhere and her heart suddenly pounding in her chest, before she realised who it was. She gave a half-hearted, self-conscious laugh and wiped the water from her face.

"Marni. I didn't see you there. You did give me a fright."

"Sorry," the lass said, moving out from behind a column. "Can't sleep?"

"I'm burning up," she replied. "I got up for some air and found myself here. You?"

Marni didn't answer straight away, but looked up through the open roof towards the night sky. "It's the pregnancy," she said. She sighed, and glanced back towards Sigrid. "It gets worse. The last three months with Nain I felt like I had a furnace going inside me."

Sigrid smiled, noticing Marni's evasion and letting it slide. "A forge master before they're even born. Thank goodness that will be in the winter for me. To be that hot in the summer…"

"It's a wonder any dam goes back for a second child. Or any woman," Marni said with a laugh. She looked up at the sky again, and her face sobered. "But we do, don't we? We forget the discomfort and the pain, or ignore it, or just keep going in spite of it." She shook her head. "We're so stupid." The lass was silent for a moment, then she glanced back at Sigrid again, and her face slowly crumpled, and she shook her head again, her voice breaking. "I can't believe it was all a lie."

She turned away, her head bowed, and Sigrid saw her shoulders start to shake. Silently she stepped forward to take Marni in her arms, and the lass clung to her and sobbed, great wracking sobs of the deepest grief, and Sigrid knew this was the first, and would be the last, time that Marni ever shed tears over her husband's betrayal. She held Marni until they subsided, and the lass drew back, wiping her eyes and breathing in deep, sharp breaths through her nose and blowing them out through her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly after she had composed herself. "I did love him, you see. It wasn't earth-shattering, I know that. He never looked at me the way Fili looks at you. But I did love him. I thought it was real." She drew back and looked up at the stars again, and sighed. "I've been here all night. I left the dance when your minstrel started playing that song, the love song. All those happy couples. I couldn't bear it."

Sigrid winced at the term 'your minstrel,' reminded too much of Nyrath's accusations, but thankfully Marni didn't notice. "It's understandable, Marni dear," she said. "Do whatever you need to do to protect yourself, for now. Until it hurts less."

"I've decided I'm going to ransom him back to his family, in exchange for the people he sent to their mines," the lass went on, squaring her shoulders, her voice firmer and almost defiant, signalling an end to what Sigrid knew the lass would think of as an episode of weakness and self-pity. "The dispatch will go out in the morning. Let's hope his family thinks he's worth it."

"If they don't, I'm sure you'll think of something," Sigrid said with a smile. Marni smiled back, and then looked up again at the stonework and greenery above her and the stars beyond them.

Sigrid broke the companionable silence softly. "I've been meaning to ask Fili about this place," she said, her eyes also skyward. "Why is the roof not closed in? I wouldn't have thought that usual for Dwarven architecture."

"It's a folly," Marni replied. "Gror had it built from a natural cave-in as a display of his wealth. Follies are meant to be expensive, unusual and pointless." Marni looked around in contemplation a moment longer. "But I've never found it pointless. It's beautiful. Peaceful." She paused, and shook her head, and her voice trailed away to a murmur. "He's not taking this from me too. I won't let him." Abruptly she straightened, and her voice changed again. "Are you feeling any better? You look less flushed," she said lightly.

"Worlds better," Sigrid said. "You?"

Marni smiled again. "Yes," she said. "Worlds better."

* * *

Despite trying to be as quiet as possible, Fili raised his head as soon as Sigrid opened the door.

"Everything all right, love?"

"Everything's fine," she replied. She removed her dressing down and slid back in between the covers, pleasantly cool where she had vacated them, and warm where she snuggled against Fili. He lifted his arm and she curled herself into his shoulder. He made a sleepy, contented humming sound, and she craned her neck up to kiss his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

The strap wouldn't budge. Sigrid gritted her teeth and tried again, changing position to brace herself and taking a better grip on the leather. She heaved, straining with all her strength, pushing the buckle up and willing it to reach the hole. The stupid thing just wouldn't go in.

She slapped the strap down angrily and burst into tears.

She heard her husband's voice behind her. "Oh, love, here. Let me."

He was back. Fili had disappeared from the stables with a cryptic comment about needing to fetch something. He loved his secret schemes, like the wineskin he'd ordered when they'd first arrived in town, now hanging unopened amongst the rolls of tents and blankets on the pack pony. She'd left him to it, knowing he'd tell her when he was ready, and continued loading the last of Daisy's saddlebags. She had been doing fine, too, until this last stupid, blasted strap wouldn't do up. She knew it was nothing to be crying over, that she was being hijacked once again by her mood swings, and she breathed in and sighed, feeling disgruntled and a bit foolish, and turned to Fili with her arms held out for a reassuring hug.

He filled her arms with puppies. She nearly dropped them in surprise.

"What on earth?" she exclaimed, laughing as two warm, excited furry bodies squirmed and wriggled in her arms, trying to climb over each other to reach up and lick her face. "Are they coming home with us?"

"Not quite," Fili said over his shoulder as he made short work of the troublesome strap. "Only part of the way." He turned to face her, smiling, and took one of the puppies out of her arms and held it up in front of him, crooning at it indulgently. "We'll give you some training on the way, won't we, girl? You'll make a fine guard dog, you and your sister both."

"Guard dogs?" Sigrid said, puzzled. Then it occurred to her. "Maggie and Birger. You're bringing them a pair of guard dogs for protection. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes. And no," Fili said enigmatically. "I'll not say any more. It's too much fun to watch your face when the surprise comes. Now come, love, tell me truly. How are you feeling? You looked fairly upset with the tack just now." His tone was serious, but his blue eyes twinkled at her. "We don't need it, if you don't like it. I'll carry you back to Erebor if I must."

"Not necessary," she said with a laugh, craning her face away from the puppy's determined licks. "I'm sorry Fili, it's the mood swings. Stay out of my way until it passes so I don't growl at you." She gave in and let the puppy lick her face, screwing up her eyes at the sensation. "Or bring me puppies. That seems to work too."

"You have nothing to apologise for, love. And growl at me all you want, I don't mind. Now if you're ready, it's time to get going."

* * *

They waved their last goodbyes to their friends in the Iron Hills as they rode out through the town, crowds gathering as news of their departure spread. There were Nib, Duf, Onar and the others in his troop, or rather Duf's troop now that Nib had been promoted, taking a break from their duties; there were Thekk, Vithi, Sviur, and the other miners and forgemasters, waving genially; Fraeg was there, smiling in his gentle, grandfatherly way, standing with his hand upraised next to Griet and Walcott, as Will jumped up and down and whooped and waved his arms like a mad thing; there were Jorunn, Eydis and Gudrun, near Jorunn's mother Ylva, with her aunt Siv surprising Sigrid by darting out from the crowd to reach up and press a small parcel into Sigrid's hands as she rode; there Finn and Astrid, Finn with Freya on his shoulders and Astrid carrying Nali on her hip, sidling quickly past the back of the crowd to keep pace with them and give the children a chance to see the spectacle; Hornburi there, standing proudly near the gates of the prison, raising his hand in salute to the son of his friend, killed so long ago; and lastly, passing by Market Lane, Bennon and Sigbert, hurrying out to blow a kiss and wave a last farewell. Apart from Marni, Dain and Madlen, who she knew were waiting at the town gates, there were only two people Sigrid was disappointed not to see – Owen, who Fili said had left early on his tall bay gelding, keen to return home to Ingrid and Olle as soon as possible, and who had passed on his best wishes and deepest apologies for missing her; and Lis. Lis hadn't been with Will, nor with Jorunn and the other lasses, and Sigrid wondered where she was. Not that she expected the lass to drop everything just to wave her goodbye, she thought glumly. They'd already taken their leave of each other, with fond hugs and promises to visit when they could and to keep in touch by letter in the meantime. But it would have been nice to see her.

They drew up at the town gates, the crowd following and milling around them, where Marni, ever mindful of pomp and protocol, had assembled banners and a trumpeter to send them off. They dismounted, and approached Marni, Dain and Madlen, looking stiff in formal robes, Nain in the arms of his nurse behind them.

Sigrid winced as the trumpeter blasted a fanfare.

"Safe travels, Fili. You too, Sigrid," Dain blustered. "Next time's at your place. Maybe we'll see you with a big belly, hey Sigrid?"

"Stop it, Adad," Marni said in a fuming undertone, her lips pursed. She raised her voice. "Prince Fili, Princess Sigrid, our dear kin. We have been most honoured by your gracious visit, and we hope so see you again soon." She gave them both a formal peck on each cheek to the cheers of the crowd, followed by similar ones from Madlen and great smacking wet kisses from Dain, and then they turned, waving their thanks, to remount their ponies. Before she had taken a step, Sigrid felt Marni's hand take hold of her arm.

"Sigrid, wait," she said under the noise of the crowd. "I think there's someone over there who wants to speak to you."

Sigrid looked around, and by the gate, her wheeled chair positioned prominently so as not to miss her leaving, her frail, gnarled hands waving stiffly but excitedly, was Val, flanked on either side by Lofar clutching the handles of his walking frame, and Frosti, leaning heavily on a stick, both grinning hugely at the surprise. Sigrid cried out in delight and ran forward to greet them, and then she looked up at the person pushing Val's chair. Tears pricked at her eyes. It was Lis.

"Val insisted I bring her out here," Lis said, giving Sigrid a warm hug.

"I'm so glad she did. What a lovely surprise," Sigrid said, her voice thick with emotion. She held out a hand to Lofar and Frosti, then knelt by Val's chair.

"I've not been out this far in sixty years," the old dwarrowdam croaked. "A lot's changed, but I am glad to see it all again before I go."

"Don't say that, Val dear," Sigrid said, smiling and wiping her eyes. "You'll live to be five hundred."

"I hope I'm never that unlucky," she quipped. "But it's you I most wanted to see, lass. I wish you all the very best."

"And I you," she replied. She took hold of Val's hands. "But there's one thing I have to know before I go, Val. How did you find Astrid? You said yourself you've not been outside for sixty years."

Val's wizened face lit up in a crafty smile. "Washer women have hearts of gold, and love a chat with an old dam over a slice of apple pie while delivering the linens. Never underestimate the elders, my dear. Old we may be, and frail, and slow, but we're not stupid."

Sigrid shook her head with a fond smile. "Never. Goodbye, dear Val, and thank you." She squeezed Val's hand and kissed her on the cheek, and stood up. "Lofar, Frosti, take care of yourselves. Goodbye Lis. Thank you for everything."

After a last hug from her friend, Sigrid walked slowly back towards Daisy, reluctant in the end to leave, and let Fili help her remount. They turned their ponies' heads to the open road, waved once more to the crowd, and set off for home.


	37. Chapter 37

"Thorin the Third," Sigrid said. She looked up at Fili's face, squinting her eyes against the sunlight. She detected a wry half-smile through the shadows on his back-lit face, and relaxed again, shielding her eyes from the sun with the back of her arm.

"No," Fili said. "I wouldn't wish the weight of that name on anyone, let alone my son. Imagine the expectations. No, something simple would be best, something of his own that he can grow into. Something without so much baggage." He lifted a finger to stroke a strand of her hair back into place, and she closed her eyes in contentment where she lay, stretched out on the blanket with her head in his lap, the remains of their picnic lunch still strewn out beside them. The two puppies lay sleeping just beyond, having eaten their fill, but apparently Fili hadn't. Sigrid felt him reach out for more food, and when he spoke again it was with his mouth half full. "And anyway, it's girls' names we should be working on, love."

"Maybe, maybe not," Sigrid replied archly. "Something simple, you say. How about Nib?"

"Are you saying Nib's simple?" Fili said with a laugh.

"No, you know what I mean," she said, shaking her head, smiling. "It's a simple name, straightforward. And he'd be so pleased to have a namesake."

Fili chuckled again. "He's the only Nib I've ever heard of. I'm convinced his mother made it up. Her name's Himinglaedr, and his father's is Mjothvitnir. I'll wager they were tired of such long names by the time Nib came along."

Sigrid laughed. "I thought it must have been short for something, Nibingr or Nibolfric or the like," she said. She sounded the name out slowly and deliberately, emphasising the consonants. "Nib. Nib son of Fili. No, I'm sorry my dearest Nib, wherever you are, but it just doesn't have that ring to it." She shrugged the thought away and relaxed in the sun, its warmth, along with the comfortable pillow of Fili's lap and her belly full of food, lulling her almost to sleep.

"Bard Junior," she heard Fili say.

"No, Da has about twenty namesakes in Dale already," she murmured. "Every second lad in the last five years has been named for him. There's even a Barda, if you can believe that – Tryggr the baker's lass."

"Hmm, Barda. I love it," Fili said, the jest in his voice unmistakable. "Opens up a whole new world of names. Thorina. Bilbina. Gandalfa. I could go on all day."

"Please don't," she said with a laugh. "Any daughter we have would never forgive us if we saddled her with a name like that. Da wouldn't forgive us either. And Dis, can you imagine? She would have a fit."

"It would be worth it just to see her reaction," Fili said mischievously. "Seriously though, we'd better come up with something before we get home, or Mother will think it her job to name the bairn. She'd choose Thrain the Third or some such."

"No, no Thrains or Thrors. Like you said, too much baggage." Sigrid fell silent as she let her mind wander, and felt herself drifting off again, warm and relaxed. "Fili," she murmured at last. "Kili, Wili, Nili. Vili. Vili, son of Fili. Vili?" She squinted up at her husband again. "What do you think? Is it too much baggage for it to rhyme with your name?"

She felt Fili's hand stroking her hair.

"Vili, son of Fili. I like it," he said. "Individual, but with the family touch. But mind, if we have another lad, he'll have to have something that doesn't rhyme. I know it's traditional, but it's maddening the amount of times people have mixed up Kili's and my names. I've told you, even Thorin's done it. And if Kili and Tauriel decide to do the same when they have a bairn…"

"Pandemonium," she said with a laugh. "All right, I agree. Vili's on the list, and no rhyming for future siblings." Her laugh turned into a sigh, and she stretched, and pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her hand went to her stomach.

"Do you truly think we'll have more, my love?"

He smiled at her, his eyes tender. "I don't see why not. Astrid and Finn have two, don't they? We know now that anything's possible. Who's to say what fate has in store for us?"

He meant it to be reassuring, she knew that. But at Fili's words, a frisson of unaccountable apprehension shivered down Sigrid's spine. There was no reason it should have – she was with Fili, and they were on their way home, all their troubles left behind them in the Iron Hills. In any case, they'd already been through so much that it hardly seemed possible that fate could have anything else to throw at them. But if there was one thing Sigrid knew about fate, it was that it didn't care what you'd already been through.

Fili frowned, noticing her sudden change of mood. "Come, love. Are you right to keep going a while longer? We can stay here if you prefer."

"I'm fine," she replied automatically, brushing off the unpleasant feeling. "Let's go."

They packed away the remains of their lunch and remounted their ponies, and each with a sleeping puppy in a sling around one shoulder, continued their journey.

* * *

The afternoon's ride brought them to Will and Walcott's father's farm, at the junction where the north-east road to the highlands and Fili's waterfall came down to join the main road between the Iron Hills and Erebor. Rather than detouring through the northern hills as they had done on their outward journey, they had come straight through on the main road, keen to take the most direct route, the sooner to arrive home. As they approached, Sigrid shifted uncomfortably in her saddle and eyed the farmhouse with a wary look.

"You're safe with me, love," Fili said quietly. "We needn't talk to him."

Fili drew Mindy up at the boundary fence. He held his puppy in its sling with one hand as he stood in his stirrups and dug into his pocket with the other, pulling out a purse that Sigrid knew contained a fair sum of gold coin and a letter from Will and Walcott to their father. He sat back down in his saddle and threw the coin purse with precise, skilful aim onto the porch in front of the door.

"That's that," he said as he turned Mindy's head back towards the road. They hadn't gone five paces before Sigrid heard the door of the farmhouse being flung open, and turned to see Will's father, small, unkempt and glowering, a garden hoe in his hand, striding across the yard towards them.

"Oi! You! Get back here!" he shouted. "Where's my son? What have you done with him?"

Fili gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and looked apologetically at Sigrid.

"I'm sorry love," he said. "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. Here." He lifted the sling from around his neck and reached across to hand Sigrid the puppy he was holding, She took it, both dogs now awake and alert, but motionless, their ears pricked up and staring intently at the farmer. In her arms she felt the vibration of a tiny growl.

Fili dismounted and turned to face Will's father, standing his ground just outside the rail fence.

"Where is he?" the farmer shouted again. He brandished the hoe. "Tell me where he is!"

"It's Waldemar, isn't it?" Fili said, his voice smooth. He nodded at the door of the farmhouse. "There's a letter from your sons in that purse over there. I suggest you read it."

"Villain!" the farmer continued, ignoring Fili's request. "Knave! You've done away with him, haven't you! Scoundrel!"

Fili took two steps and with one hand on the rail he vaulted the fence, walking towards the farmer with a determined stride. Waldemar's thin face blanched, and he nearly fell over himself as he backtracked to the door of the farmhouse, his panicked eyes never leaving Fili's face. He stopped at the door and dropped into a defensive stance with his hoe raised and pointed at Fili.

Fili disarmed him without breaking his stride, and threw the hoe aside. He grabbed the purse from where it lay by the door, and pressed it into Waldemar's trembling hands.

"Open it."

Waldemar undid the drawstring with fumbling fingers, and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. A few gold coins fell to the timber floor of the porch with a clatter.

"Read it, Waldemar. It's from your sons. They've been through a lot, but even now, they'd like you to come visit them in the Iron Hills."

Waldemar unfolded the parchment and turned his sullen, fearful eyes from Fili to the writing on the page. As he read, his shoulders relaxed, and he stood upright. Fili took a step back.

Sigrid saw Waldemar's thoughts and feelings clearly shifting across his features as he read, moving from fear and resentment to confusion and incredulousness. He lifted his eyes to Fili.

"You did this?" he said, sounding dubious and looking Fili up and down, slowly, as if for the first time. Before Fili could answer, Waldemar's face hardened again, and he sneered. "Trickery! You wrote this! You want me out of my house so you can rob me! Villain!" He sprang away from Fili and hurled himself through the open door of the farmhouse, slamming it behind him as more coins clattered down in his wake, and Sigrid heard the thudding sound of a bar being shoved into place as he secured it from the inside.

Fili stood and looked at the door for a moment, then turned and began walking slowly back towards her, giving one small shake of his head. He smiled at her ruefully before re-mounting Mindy and reaching out to take one of the puppies from her arms. He settled the sling around his neck and the puppy craned up her neck to give him a solemn lick. He laughed and stroked her head.

"At least you appreciate my efforts, pup," he said, half in earnest, half jest.

"Oh, love. You tried. That's all you can do," Sigrid said softly. "If he's not willing to listen, that's up to him."

"I know. You're right, love," Fili said with a sigh. He gazed at her a moment, his eyes tender and a small, resigned half-smile on his face. Then his eyes narrowed. "The lads will come see him at some point, and he'll hear everything from them. But in truth, they're better off without him." He paused, looking off into the distance as he thought. "Their mother must have been a good woman, or Will wouldn't be like he is. How on earth did she end up with such a bitter old churl?" He frowned and shook his head again, then pressed Mindy forward and they set off up the road.

Sigrid shrugged. "He may not have started out that way," she said. "Time can change things. Hardship, illness… the stress can make you bitter if it goes on too long."

"That's true," Fili admitted. "But it's a choice, in the end, isn't it? You let it make you bitter. You don't have to."

"Not everyone's as strong as you, my love," she said softly. "And Fili – as much as you may want to, you can't fix everything."

Fili rode on in silence for a dozen or so paces, deep in thought. Finally he nodded in rueful resignation and glanced at her. "You're right, beloved. As always. But you know, I'd rather be the sort that tries, even if I fail, than the sort that turns their back on people who need help."

"I know you would," she said. "You are. It's why I love you. Now, let's put some miles between us and the charming Waldemar, and find me a camp where you can hunt some rabbits. I want stew tonight, and it's your turn to cook."

"As you wish, beloved," he replied, his eyes soft and lingering on her face. "If it's stew you want, that's what you shall have."

* * *

They made camp early on a rise beside a low-lying creek, upstream from the road and amongst the shelter of a stand of scrubby bushes. Fili brought back three rabbits from his hunt, already skinned and cleaned downwind in consideration of Sigrid's sensitive stomach, and set about turning two of them into the requested stew. Sigrid offered to feed the puppies, but the raw, meaty smell from the third rabbit was too pungent in the end, and she convinced Fili to let her take over the stew while he took care of the puppies, watching as he used a few small tidbits to start training them to sit before they began eating.

"Rabbit bones are too small for these two to gnaw on. Maggie will have some beef bones at the Pick and Shovel, no doubt," he said as he watched the puppies tuck in to their meal.

"No doubt she'd slaughter one specially, if it was you that asked," Sigrid replied, handing him a bowl of steaming, fragrant stew, with some rolls of bread they'd brought with them from the Iron Hills to sop up the gravy. They sat side-by-side on their bedrolls and ate their fill, the ponies grazing contentedly nearby, occasionally lifting their heads to level their patient, bemused gazes at the puppies playing and wrestling by their feet. Fili stoked up the campfire again as the sun disappeared on the western horizon and a chill began to pervade the evening air, and lay back down on the bedroll beside Sigrid and sighed. He looked at her and held up his arm for her to snuggle into his side.

"I'm glad it's just us again, you and me," she whispered. "I love having you all to myself."

"You always have me all to yourself, love, even in a crowded room," he murmured back. He kissed her hair. "What I want to know is, how did I get so lucky?"

"You climbed out my of toilet," she replied. "Who could resist that?" She felt his chuckle rumble in his chest, and he held her, and kissed her hair again.


	38. Chapter 38

It was hard not to keep pushing forward. All Fili wanted was to get back home as soon as possible. If it were just himself, he'd push on through each day as far as Mindy would take him, but with Sigrid it was a different matter, especially now. She needed rest, and although he'd made her promise to tell him if she needed it, he was very familiar with her tendency to keep on going, thinking of everyone but herself. Hence the need for the promise in the first place. He'd been erring on the side of caution for over a week now, with late starts and early finishes to their days, knowing that however easily they'd fallen back into the rhythm of travelling – setting up camp, sleeping under the stars, hunting rabbits for stew and catching fish when they could get them – Sigrid's health needed to be forefront in his considerations. Not that she couldn't participate – he smiled as he recalled the image of her stripping down to her blouse and linens on the bank of the shallow stream they'd crossed the day before yesterday, to wade in, determined to catch their supper, her sunhat falling over her face as she seized hold of the first wildly struggling trout and triumphantly held it aloft. He'd never deny her the joy she took in it; seeing it melted his heart. She just needed to be mindful of pacing herself. He smiled again as he glanced across at her, riding beside him in the afternoon sun, her puppy nodding drowsily in the sling she held in front of her. She didn't catch him looking, lost as she was in her own reverie, her eyes unfocused and unseeing as she swayed along with the lilting cadence of Daisy's steps. He didn't want to interrupt her, but he couldn't help himself.

"You're far away, beloved," he said gently. "What are you thinking about?"

Sigrid looked around, her face for a moment still blank, then smiling as she met Fili's eyes and came back to the present. "Hmm? Oh, it's nothing. Just daydreaming."

She looked away from him again to the road ahead, and Fili was left with the impression that she was… not exactly hiding something, yet not exactly telling him the whole truth, either. Her thoughts were her own, however, and he didn't press her. If she wanted to confide in him, she'd do it when she was ready.

"It's nearly time to set up camp," he said. "How are you feeling, love?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically. Then she hesitated, and glanced towards him with a sheepish expression. "Actually, I am a bit tired, now that you mention it. Where will we stop?"

"Half a mile ahead, maybe less," he replied. "Remember where we stopped our first night out from the Pick and Shovel? The little stream?"

Sigrid's eyes lit up. "The one with the wild thyme? Are we that close?" she exclaimed. "That means we'll be at the inn tomorrow. I thought we were miles away."

"Not that far. A day's ride for us, half a day for an ordinary traveller," Fili said.

"It'll be so good to see Maggie and Birger again," Sigrid continued. "Dear Maggie." She fell silent, her eyes straight ahead but once again becoming dreamy and unfixed as her attention drifted.

Often now it seemed to Fili as though Sigrid's mind was elsewhere. She had mislaid Daisy's curry comb a couple of nights ago, and had burst into angry tears as she hunted through the saddlebags for it, turning to embarrassment and finally laughter as she found it wrapped in oilcloth and tucked in amongst her blouses. He knew the mind-fog to be one of the many symptoms of pregnancy that women and dwarrow-dams alike found frustrating, and understood it was temporary, but he didn't quite know whether it was more humorous or disconcerting to see Sigrid become so easily flustered when she was usually so sharp. A bit of both perhaps, he thought, with a wry smile.

There was one thing he was glad she hadn't remembered, though, and that was because he wanted to surprise her. He didn't think she realised that tomorrow was the anniversary of their wedding feast, five years to the day since they had signed the agreements between their two families and celebrated their marriage. It was one of two anniversaries they celebrated, the other being the date of their handfasting, a week after New Years' Day, and neither of them usually passed unmarked by a gift, a special meal, and a glass or two of fine wine that they shared sitting on the edge of the parapet of the great front gate of Erebor, under the stars. Back in the Iron Hills, while Sigrid thought he'd been busy finishing Tilda's hunting knives, Fili had actually been working on his gift to her, a delicate piece of jewellery that had been inspired by a chance conversation they'd had one night on their journey to the Iron Hills, as they lay together in their bedrolls, looking at the stars. The piece was now wrapped and carefully stowed in his saddlebag, and although quietly confident, he was still modest enough to hope she would like it, and was anticipating the surprise it would be when he gave it to her.

His attention snapped back to the road with a start, as he realised that Sigrid had turned off and was heading Daisy north, picking her way over and through the tufts of grass and low bushes that dotted the dry, sandy soil, and he was about to call out to her when he heard the stream babbling away in front of him, and smelled the woody, lemony scent of wild thyme in the air. She was heading to their campsite. Fili shrugged, smiling; perhaps it was he who had the mind-fog after all.

* * *

Sigrid followed her nose, breathing deeply of the delicious scent of thyme that hung in the air. She pulled Daisy up in the same clearing they'd camped in on their outward journey, close but not too close to the small brook and sheltered by a ring of small shrubs, and looked around for Fili, who was following about fifty yards behind her. She dismounted and walked Daisy to the brook, and let her dip her head to drink from the cool, shallow running water. Fili joined her to water Mindy and the pack pony, and she handed Daisy's reins to him and made her way up the side of the brook to the place, another fifty yards or so along, where she'd discovered the luxurious carpet of wild creeping thyme.

The fragrance surrounded her. The billowing cushions of tiny lavender-coloured flowers, thickly covering the plant's dense, miniature leaves, covered at least twenty yards of the riverbank, and the sight was spectacular. Bees by the dozen bumbled over the tiny flowers, hovering back and forth, then rising serenely to transport their harvest to their hive, wherever it was. At least a dozen different birds twittered at her from the bushes, drawn both to the insect life that proliferated under the groundcover and to the flowers themselves, and the bolder ones hopped to the outer branches of their hideaways to cast darting glances at the intruder. She felt Fili arrive beside her, equally as entranced as she by the sight of the carpet of purple and the bustling secret world that depended upon it.

"Do you think I could take a transplant back home?" she whispered. "Do you think it would survive?"

"I don't see why not," Fili replied. "We can try, surely."

Sigrid drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly, and turned to Fili with hopeful eyes. "I'll dig up a rootball in the morning. I'll ask Maggie for a pot or something to plant it into when we get to the Inn, and we'll see if we can't get it home."

Fili smiled at her and nodded. Then he reached down and clasped her hand. "Great idea. But for _now_ ," he said, dragging out the word, "you need to come with me. Bed."

"Bed?" she said, one eyebrow raised, and a smile in the corners of her pursed lips.

"For a nap," Fili said with a laugh. "Come, love, you said you were tired. I've got your bedroll laid out. I'll set up camp and make supper while you rest."

"All right," she conceded. "But here." She stooped down and picked a few sprigs of the thyme, and handed them to Fili. "For the stew."

* * *

The hot flushes were back, and Sigrid was boiling. She rolled onto her back, threw off her covers, and fanned herself to cool down. She'd dozed until evening, waking to the tantalising smell of stewed rabbit with thyme, and they'd sat on their bedrolls and eaten heartily before relaxing back to watch the stars coming out in the dusk. Fili had done everything, she thought with a twinge of guilt: caring for the ponies and the puppies, making the campfire, hunting the rabbits for the stew and then cooking it, everything, and he was now snoring gently beside her, having fallen asleep fully clothed. He must have been so tired, she thought. He'd never begrudge her anything, she knew that, but she felt that she should have done more to help him instead of sleeping the afternoon away, pregnant or not. Especially now, as it seemed that her nap had only served to make it more difficult to stay asleep at night.

The night air was pleasantly cool on her perspiring skin, and she sat up, fanning herself again, but she needed water. She reached for her waterskin, close beside her bedroll for exactly that purpose, and took a sip. Nothing came out, and she tilted it up, shaking the rounded pouch to encourage the last drops to fall into her mouth. It wasn't enough. She got up, and tread carefully in her bare feet through the tufts of spiky grass to the stream to refill her skin.

When it was half full she lifted it to her lips and drank, the chill of the water at any other time enough to give her a headache, but now serving perfectly to counteract the boiling heat inside her. She splashed a little over her face and dabbed it around, using the rolled-up sleeve of her sleeping shirt to wipe away the drips. It was an old shirt of Fili's, far too wide in the shoulders for her slender frame, but she loved wearing it to bed over her linens, the fabric of it worn as soft as goosedown over the years. She stood and looked around her, the night softly lit by a crescent moon, and breathed in, feeling the hot flush slowly receding. She breathed in again, slowly, through her nose. She couldn't smell the thyme in the air any more. Perhaps the wind had changed, or perhaps one's nose simply became inured to it over time, and then needed a bigger dose. The smell was calming, though, and she thought perhaps a sprig or two in her pillow might help her go back to sleep, so she wandered slowly up the riverbank towards the thick, purple carpet.

* * *

Sigrid's muffled scream woke Fili instantly. He leapt to his feet, pausing for one moment to determine where the sound had come from, and noticed the puppies, awake and standing stiffly, barking towards the south. He cocked his head, and then heard Sigrid cry out again from upstream, north, and not far. Already running, he shouted a command over his shoulder to the puppies to stay, and sprinted grimly towards her, not knowing what he was going to find.

He burst through the bushes, and saw two men and two dwarves on horseback, one of them holding his wife in front of him, the pony's reins binding her wrists and a hand over her struggling mouth. He knew them all: Taft and Hawk, the thieves that he'd caught in this very region only a couple of weeks ago, and supposedly in jail in the Iron Hills; a guard from the Iron Hills by the name of Aurvang; and lastly, impossibly, holding Sigrid in front of him and kicking his pony forward with a gloating grin on his face – Nyrath.


	39. Chapter 39

Fili sized up the horsemen, his mind calculating furiously. They were well armed, prepared, whereas he had no swords, no hunting knives, only his boot knives – no, one boot knife. The other he'd used at supper and it was back at the campsite, amongst the dirty dishes. One boot knife, on foot, against four armed riders. He'd faced worse odds. He gritted his teeth and started running, straight for Nyrath.

To his left he saw Hawk turn his horse south and kick it frantically into a gallop, the coward unwilling to face him even when outnumbered. Taft, hurling abuse at Hawk's back as he rode off, circled behind him, while Aurvang sat immobile on his pony to his right, looking blankly between him and Nyrath.

"You've got her. Let's get out of here!" he heard Taft shout from behind him. Without breaking stride Fili stooped and pulled his boot knife, and he saw a flicker of fear appear in Nyrath's eyes. The dwarf kicked his horse forward, pulling sharply on the left rein to turn it south, towards the road. If he spurred his horse out of range, Sigrid would be gone.

Sigrid, however, had other ideas. She lifted her hands high in front of her, her wrists still bound by the reins, and struck backwards to hit Nyrath as hard as she could in the face with her elbow. The horse reared, Nyrath's head snapped back, and he lost his grip on her and slid off the back of the horse to fall heavily on his back. Now was his chance. Fili threw his knife with deadly aim, and it whizzed through the air to hit its mark – the reins in front of Sigrid's hands, where it sliced through the leather like butter to free her. She slid to the ground next to Nyrath a moment before the horse came down from its hind legs and bolted.

"Sigrid! The knife!" Fili shouted. Sigrid untangled her wrists from the scraps of the reins and stumbled towards the spot in the high grass where the knife had fallen. Nyrath, meanwhile, panting heavily, had climbed to his feet and drawn his sword, taking a stance between him and Sigrid, and he held the blade in both hands, the point inches from Fili's stomach.

"I should have killed you at the Iron Hills," Nyrath snarled, his handsome features twisted with hatred.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Fili replied coolly. He tried to circle around Nyrath to get to Sigrid and the knife, but each time he moved Nyrath lunged at him, and he kept having to leap backwards to avoid the blade. He risked a glance at the others. Taft was still circling casually, his cruel grin indicating he was very much enjoying what looked likely to be Fili's impending demise, while the look on Aurvang's face spoke the opposite: that the murder in cold blood of an unarmed dwarf was nothing like what he'd bargained for. Fili saw the advantage and pressed it.

"You can still turn this around, Aurvang," he called over his shoulder, his eyes back on Nyrath. "You broke them out of prison, didn't you? But you needn't be an accomplice to murder. Help me, and I'll see that things go easier for you."

"Shut up!" Nyrath snapped. He lunged again with the blade, and Fili dodged again out of reach.

"What did he promise you, Aurvang?" Fili continued. "Whatever it was, it's not likely you'll get it now, is it? Cut your losses. Throw me your sword."

"Kill him and shut him up, you fool," Taft called to Nyrath. The thief indicated towards Aurvang with his head. "Before this one takes a mind to listen to him."

Aurvang looked from Nyrath to Fili, then narrowed his eyes at Taft, and his jaw tightened. He had indeed decided to cut his losses. He gathered his reins, turned his horse south towards the road, and kicked it into a gallop.

"Ha! Too late," Taft cried, his voice mocking as he watched Aurvang ride off. "Another coward on the run. I guess it's up to me to finish this, then?"

Anger combined with the hatred on Nyrath's face. "No! Don't you touch him. I want to kill him myself. I want to watch him die knowing it was me that killed him."

Taft gave another mocking, snorting laugh. "Fool. I'm not so stupid as to mess with _him_ ," he said. "No. If you want to stop him, it's the girl you need to grab." He turned his horse towards Sigrid.

"No!" Fili cried. "Sigrid!"

"Don't touch her!" shouted Nyrath. He snarled again and raised his sword for an overhead strike at Fili, his face contorted with fury.

Sigrid stood up from where she had been searching the long grass, and raised her hand. "Fili! Catch!" she shouted, and the knife came spinning towards him, end over end, a perfect, textbook throw. He caught it, sank to one knee, and with both hands on the handle used the knife to deflect Nyrath's strike, and sent him tumbling into the dirt. Fili leapt to his feet and turned to run to Sigrid.

He stopped short. Taft had her.

The scrawny thief had dismounted, and he was standing with a fistful of Sigrid's hair, pulling her head back cruelly, his blade at her exposed throat.

"One move, dwarf," Taft said quietly, giving Sigrid a shake and inching the blade closer to her skin. "Just one. Give me a reason, and I'll do it."

"Let her go, Taft," Fili said, raising his knife and aiming it at the thief's head. "You know I can put this between your eyes from here."

"Yes, but then Nyrath will kill you, won't he?" he said, almost laughing in his delight at Fili's predicament. "You've only got one knife. Defend your lass, or defend yourself. What's it to be, I wonder?"

Fili glanced over his shoulder, his arm still poised towards Taft, as Nyrath strolled casually up to him, brushing dust off his clothing and inspecting the sword in his hand, turning it this way and that.

"Now, Nyrath," the thief said. "Do it, then we'll have some fun with the lassie." He leered unpleasantly at Sigrid. Fili fought to control his own sudden burst of rage, and braced himself to fight it out.

Then from the south, the sound of hoofbeats broke into his awareness, becoming gradually louder as they approached. Had Aurvang or Hawk, or both, circled back to rejoin the standoff, and tip the scale in Nyrath's favour?

He pushed it out of his mind. He needed to focus - he'd deal with them later. Nyrath, though, unexpectedly, had kept walking calmly past Fili towards Taft and Sigrid. The dwarf looked up and made eye contact with Taft as he stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I told you not to touch her," he said, and he plunged his sword into Taft's stomach.

Sigrid's scream was lost as the noise of the hoofbeats of a dozen ponies suddenly thundered around them. The thief let go of Sigrid and she ran to Fili's arms, and he could feel her shaking as he held her, shielding her away from Nyrath as well as from the new intruders. Taft's eyes looked at Nyrath in surprise, then down at the sword in his stomach, and then they glazed over, he went limp, and Nyrath let his body slide off the blade to collapse in a heap on the ground.

Fili looked around. It was a dozen armoured guards of the Iron Hills that surrounded them, and Nyrath threw his bloody sword onto Taft's body and put his hands in the air. It was over.

"Mother of Durin, Fili, can't I leave you alone for a second?" a cheery voice quipped, and one of the guards dismounted to make his way towards them, as two others bound Nyrath's hands behind his back.

"Nib," Fili said with a sigh of relief, not letting go of Sigrid. "Never have I been gladder to see you, my friend."

"Nor I you," Nib replied. "We've hunted these four all the way from the Hills, zig-zagging across the countryside. Couldn't understand why they didn't just ride straight for the west." He glanced at Sigrid. "Then we figured it out, and came looking for you. Are you all right?"

Sigrid rubbed her neck. "I'm not hurt. Fili had everything under control."

Fili said nothing, but gave Sigrid a squeeze, less convinced than she was of his command of the situation, but touched as always by the faith she had in him.

"The other two? The ones that rode off?" she continued. "Did you catch them?"

"They ran straight into us, back down there," Nib said, indicating towards the south with his head. "Too dumb to stay off the road. That's how we knew to head this way." He gave Fili a friendly slap on the back. "Everything under control, hey?" he said. "Well, we've got them now. Let's escort you on to the Pick and Shovel."

They started back towards their campsite, and then Fili made the mistake of glancing towards Nyrath as he stood bound and held by two of the guards. He was standing calmly, not struggling, his face a blank, expressionless mask, but his narrowed eyes never left Sigrid. Fili didn't realise he had made a move towards him until he felt Sigrid's hand on his chest.

"Fili, stop," she said quietly. "Self-defence is one thing; now would be something else entirely. And besides, Marni needs him alive, to trade for the prisoners, remember? Let's just walk away. He won't bother us again."

He looked at her, wanting to argue, and above all wanting to make damn sure Nyrath wouldn't bother her again, ever. Then he sighed, took her hand and raised it to his lips, and held it against his chest. "You're more forgiving than I am, love. But you're right, as always. I'll do as you say."

* * *

Nib was keen to press on immediately for the inn, but it was still hours until morning, and Fili refused to budge from their campsite, insisting that they stay and let Sigrid sleep. Nib shrugged his agreement and ordered the troop to bed down for the night, with a rotating watch placed on the prisoners. Fili knew, as Nib did not, how much Sigrid needed to rest, and he wanted to be convinced that she really had suffered no lasting harm from her ordeal before moving on. He knew she was trying to ease his mind as she described to him how she'd landed on her feet as she'd slid down from the rearing horse, and he actually gave a small rueful smile as she took his hand and ran it down her neck to prove that Taft's blade hadn't touched her. Her head felt sore where the thief had taken hold of her hair, but other than that, she assured him, she was uninjured. She just wanted to go back to sleep. Fili put up a tent and moved their bedrolls inside it, away from prying eyes, and he could sense her relief as they finally crawled inside to seek the comfort of each other's arms.

"Please love, don't try to downplay it on my account," he whispered to her as he settled her head on his shoulder. "You were shaking when you ran to me. How are you, truly?"

"I'm not downplaying it," she murmured. "It was a shock. But then you were right there, Fili. I never doubted that you'd deal with them."

He was silent again, guilt at his inability to prevent the incident gnawing at him. It was the one thing he'd always assured her, that she was safe with him. And tonight she'd been in danger. He'd let her down.

"I know what you're thinking, my love, and you need to stop it," she said, snuggling into his side. "You couldn't have foreseen that something like this would happen. It's not your fault. But it did happen, and you saved me anyway. I'd back you against a hundred swordsmen, even if you were armed with nothing more than a soup ladle." She craned up to kiss him, and he closed his eyes as she pressed her soft, sweet lips to his, but before she could snuggle back down into his shoulder, he stopped her with a hand on her cheek, his gaze sombre.

"No. It was you, love. You made the difference tonight. Pulling on the reins like that, and that elbow in Nyrath's face, it gave me the chance to cut you free. And your throw, when you found the knife… if you hadn't done that, if it hadn't been as good as it was, I'm not sure how it would have all turned out."

She smiled at him, and kissed him again. "No, Fili, my love, it was you. You made the best of the opportunities that presented themselves. If they hadn't been there, you would have found others. You would have found a way. I don't doubt that for a second." He let her snuggle back into his side, and he was comforted again by her touch, her words, and the unshakeable faith she had in him.

"And now, hold me tight until I'm asleep," she continued. "And I'm sorry, but you'll just have to accept that you're amazing."

He held her, and felt her relaxing in his arms as sleep came to claim her. But before she dozed off, he heard her murmur, barely audible even in the silence of the night around them.

"I wasn't going to let him take me."


	40. Chapter 40

Fili woke on his side, Sigrid still in his arms with her back nestled into his chest, as the grey light of dawn made itself known through the canvas of their tent. She was holding his arm tight around her even in her sleep, and he fought back the urge to squeeze her closer against him for fear of waking her. Was she truly all right, as she'd said? She'd had nightmares after her last encounter with Nyrath, in the Iron Hills, and there was no knowing what effect this attempted abduction could have on her. And the baby – what if the shock had been too great, and something happened to their child? Fili's jaw clenched grimly. If anything went wrong, he'd separate Nyrath's head from his body, prisoner or no.

His own body must have betrayed his thoughts with some kind of movement, because Sigrid stirred in his arms, pulling his arm higher to rest between her breasts.

"You're awake," she murmured in a voice still heavy with sleep. He nuzzled softly into her hair and she leaned her head back into his touch.

"I am," he whispered behind her ear. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm, no," she murmured over her shoulder, and pulled his arm even closer. "This is nice. I don't want to miss it."

He smiled, his concern rendering it pensive and half-hearted. "Rest then, love. Please."

For a moment she cuddled his arm with another sweet, sleepy humming noise. Then suddenly she loosened his arm and rolled to face him, and her eyes, large and luminous, searched his, all traces of sleep gone.

"You're worried about me, aren't you?" she said quietly. "There's no need, my love."

"Sigrid. Last night…" He paused, wondering how to express his concerns without implying that she was unable to cope. Then he remembered something she had said to him long ago, and he changed tack. "Do you remember the night we first sat down to supper together, before the New Year's feast? The night I first took you up to the parapet?"

"Of course I do," she replied softly. "Why?"

"We were in the West Hall, and everyone was drinking and dancing, and you said 'how do they all go on like nothing happened?'" He brought her hand up between them to kiss her fingers, then looked at her and held her eye. "Tell me truly, love. Last night must have been terrifying. Are you sure _you're_ not trying to go on like nothing happened?"

She smiled at him ruefully, and her hand broke his grip to reach up and smooth back his bed-tousled hair before caressing his forehead and cheek with her thumb.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Maybe I am. Maybe it will all come out in a rush at some stage and I'll collapse in a heap. But I don't feel like that at the moment." Her hand found one of his braids and she tugged it affectionately.

"Amrâlimê," he whispered. "Beloved. If anything had happened to you, I'd never…"

She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "No. Stop. He was never going to succeed. Never," she said, shaking her head, her eyes wide, utterly incredulous at the suggestion things could have turned out differently. "You were never going to let it happen. _I_ was never going to let it happen." Her hand returned to his cheek, and she sighed. "My love. My Fili. You told me at the lake not to dwell on might-have-beens, remember? I'm going to give you the same advice. I'm here, I'm fine. The baby's fine." Her tender smile widened, almost to a grin. "How can we be otherwise, with you looking out for us?"

Reassured, he responded with a smile of his own, his heart welling with love for her, for her sweetness, her courage, her strength, her belief in him. He slid his hand into her hair and tenderly captured her lips with his.

She slid her arm around his neck and deepened the kiss, rolling back to bring him on top of her. Resting on his arms so as not to crush her, he drank in the kisses she offered, then he lifted his head to gaze at her.

"In any case, today is about you and me, and no one else," she murmured, her voice low and her eyes locking onto his from underneath her lashes. "Happy anniversary, my love."

"Ah, my sweet love. Happy anniversary." And he'd thought she'd forgotten. She pulled him down to her lips again and held him to her, her kisses sweet and intoxicating, and he gave himself up to the taste and scent and feel of her. He felt her hands slide into his hair as he started pressing kisses down the irresistible column of her throat.

He heard her say his name in a breathy whisper. "Fili."

He hummed back, his lips occupied. "Mmm?"

"I can still hear Nib and the troop out there. They'll hear us."

He chuckled against her collarbone. "Mmm. You're right. Might be awkward. But then again, they might learn a thing or two…" He grinned and flinched as she whacked his shoulder, laughing. He rolled to the side and leaned on his elbow to look down at her, and she was beautiful, with her hair tousled and her lips swollen from his kisses, and her soulful eyes more grey than blue in the dim light inside the tent. He smiled at her, and reached underneath his pillow to pull out a small parcel wrapped in a cloth. He lay back down beside her and held it up.

"For you, beloved."

She drew back in surprise. "A gift? When did you organise that?" she said softly. She took the parcel, and he watched her surprise turn to delight and tenderness as she unwrapped the cloth and held up its contents to dangle in front of her, a bracelet of gold with three small charms hanging from it, worked in gold and studded with white gems.

"Tilda's knives weren't the only thing I was finishing in the forges," he said with a grin. He pointed out one of the charms. "See the design? It's…"

"Oh, love. I know what it is," she interrupted, her voice full of emotion. "Three down and four around at the bottom. It's the stars you named for me that night at the lake. It's Sigrid's Saucepan." She examined the other charms. "And look, that's the constellation I gave you. Fili's Boot Knife."

"Ah, Fili's _Other_ Boot Knife, please." His grin faded and he lowered his voice. "It's a strange coincidence, love, but that knife? It was the one that saved you last night."

"Was it now?" she replied. She fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, and Fili mentally kicked himself for having brought it up. Then Sigrid shook herself and smiled. "Well, I'm glad of it. And here's your heart," she said, touching the third charm with her forefinger.

"You always had that, love," he said softly. He took the bracelet from her fingers and she held up her wrist for him to clasp it on. She admired it hanging there and then slid her arms around his neck, drawing him towards her.

"Thank you. I love it," she whispered. "I have a gift for you too, but you'll have to wait for tonight."

"Excellent," he said with a grin, nuzzling enthusiastically into her neck.

"I don't mean that," she laughed. "Wait and see."

* * *

They rose reluctantly, conscious that Nib and his troop were waiting for them. The Captain of the Guard joined them as they breakfasted hurriedly on some leftovers, sitting himself down beside them in front of their tent.

"There's no rush, Sigrid, Fili," he said. "The lads will take Nyrath and the others back to the Hills. Marni doesn't want to send Nyrath on to the Blue Mountains until the trade deal is struck. The other two will face trial."

"You're not going back with them?" Sigrid asked.

"I'll come to the Pick and Shovel with you, if that's all right," he said. Above his rounded cheeks his twinkling eyes turned serious. "I don't mean to intrude, but I need your counsel, Fili. Aurvang's treachery is a blow, I'll not lie to you. I thought he was trustworthy. I need to work out who's true and who's false amongst the guards, as soon as possible. I'd appreciate your advice."

Sigrid and Fili looked at each other.

"Of course, Nib. Absolutely," Sigrid said quickly, turning back to Nib and hiding her disappointment with a smile.

"Great. Well, I'll get the lads on the road. No time like the present." Nib slapped his thighs and with a rocking motion rose to his feet and headed off towards his troop. As soon as he was out of earshot Fili leaned towards her.

"It doesn't have to be tonight, love. Let me talk to him. We can discuss his guard problems tomorrow."

"No. It's too important, Fili," she said. "He'll need to get back as soon as possible. We can celebrate tomorrow night."

Fili didn't look convinced. "No, love. I don't care how important it is."

Sigrid smiled at him. "Yes you do. You'd be upset with yourself later on. We both know that sometimes responsibilities come first."

Fili muttered something in Khuzdul under his breath that Sigrid couldn't make out, but guessed to be along the lines of "responsibilities be damned." Then his eyes brightened.

"I know. Let's get on the road, and I'll discuss things with him as we ride. I'll try to get it all done before tonight." He leaned in for a kiss. "You know me too well, Sigrid mine."

* * *

Sigrid did know him well. She knew him well enough to keep him occupied watering the ponies when the troop headed out, far away from Nyrath and the temptation to say a last goodbye to him with his fists. He kicked a pebble into the stream. Fili felt sure that Nib, usually scrupulously correct in his dealings, would have turned a blind eye to it for once, for him, considering the circumstances. But Nyrath wasn't an orc, he thought as he watched Mindy toss her head to shake off a fly, sending drops of water everywhere. He was a dwarf, and Fili knew that no matter what he'd done, the way that Fili chose to deal with him said nothing about Nyrath and everything about the sort of person Fili was. It was a poor sort of justice, a brute's justice, an orc's justice, to mete out violence in return for violence. Fili had never been that sort of person, and he wasn't about to start.

And judging by the look on Sigrid's face as he slowly led the ponies back to their campsite, a mixture of love, pride, and understanding, she knew that about him too. He walked silently up to her, threw the ponies' reins carelessly over a bush, and took her in his arms, and held her.

* * *

Nib was infuriating. All morning, every time had Fili tried to steer the conversation onto the topic of the loyalty of the Iron Hills guards, Nib had managed to brush it aside, veering off course onto a hundred different subjects. He was glad Sigrid was able to see the funny side, knowing full well as she did what Fili was trying to do and pursing her lips to keep from smiling each time it failed. Far from reproaching him for spoiling their anniversary celebrations, she had said it could wait, and she meant it, but that wasn't the point. He wasn't a lord first and a husband second, relegating his personal life to the bottom of his list of priorities. Sigrid was as important to him as any official concerns could ever be. But for that statement to have any meaning, he had to live it. Tonight was the night, and he wasn't going to let her down.

* * *

They rode in sight of the Pick and Shovel just after lunch, the time making itself known with the beginnings of a rumble in Sigrid's stomach. She followed Fili as he entered the yard and turned Mindy's head towards the stables, but as they passed the front door, it flew open, and Birger came hurrying out with his small, shuffling steps, a broad smile threatening to split his face in two, and they drew their ponies to a halt. Birger was followed closely by Maggie, wiping her hands on a cloth, all bustle and seriousness to mask her delight, calling to Birger to stand back and give them a chance to dismount, and behind her, his blue eyes as wide and disarming as ever as they regarded Fili with pleasure from the doorway, was Olle.

Fili dismounted, keeping careful hold of the wriggling puppy he had in its sling around his neck.

"Birger, my man, it's good to see you!" he said. "Here. This is for you." He removed the sling and unceremoniously dumped the puppy into Birger's astonished arms, and slapped him affectionately on the shoulder as it began licking his face. "Guard dogs, Maggie," he said over his shoulder. "I'll show you how I've been training them a bit later." He walked around Mindy's head to Sigrid's side where she was still mounted on Daisy, and held up his arms for her puppy.

"Olle!" he called. "Come on, lad. This one's for you. Can you hand it down to me please, love?"

Almost as astonished as Birger, Sigrid removed the puppy from her sling and handed it down to Fili. She dismounted slowly and watched as he called Olle to him and placed the excited puppy in his arms, the child's dreamy eyes lighting up in wonder. Olle looked back towards the door of the inn, and Sigrid followed his gaze to see Ingrid and Owen there, smiling in approval and raising their hands to Sigrid and Fili in greeting.

"I told you there might be some changes when you returned," Maggie said in a satisfied tone as she moved closer to embrace Sigrid. "Oh, it's good to see you, lass. I've invited this lot to stay. I'm getting older, and Birger won't be able to run the place on his own when I go. They've agreed to help me out."

"It's you who've helped us out, Maggie dear," Ingrid said as she and Owen walked up behind Maggie. Ingrid laid a hand on Owen's chest and looked up at him indulgently. "I love you, sweetheart, but you're no farmer, are you? We didn't know what we were going to do."

"It's true, my heart's darling," Owen said in his deep, resonant voice, looking down at Ingrid. "Sadly, I'm not cut out for shouldering the plough. But many's the traveller at the Pick and Shovel Inn who appreciates a song from their homeland, and is willing to pay good coin for it. We can hire any labour we need."

"And Olle will learn from Birger how to tend the animals, when he's old enough," Ingrid went on. "But have you eaten? See to your ponies, and come inside and have lunch. We can talk there."

* * *

"You knew," Sigrid said to Fili in a low voice as they followed Birger and Olle to the stables, the puppies bounding eagerly around them, keen to explore their new home.

"Knew what?" Fili said disingenuously, his irrepressible dimples belying his pretended innocence.

"You knew they would be here. Owen and Ingrid and Olle. Why didn't you tell me?"

Fili laughed. "Because it's too much fun to surprise you, my love. Owen confided his plan to me back in the Iron Hills. That's why he rode off before saying goodbye, that day after the feast. He'd made his coin and he wanted to fetch Ingrid and Olle, and start their new life at the Inn. He knew we'd catch up with him here."

Sigrid shook her head at him, smiling fondly. "I should be mad at you, leaving me out of things. But it's a lovely surprise. It sounds like the perfect arrangement."

Fili grinned, then lowered his voice and glanced conspiratorially at Nib, leading his pony behind them. "No, love. Squaring away the talk with Nib and having you all to myself tonight – that will be the perfect arrangement."


	41. Chapter 41

"Delicious, as always, Maggie, thank you," Sigrid said as the innkeep cleared away the remains of their lunch and placed a platter of fruit and some light white wine in its place. The great room was empty but for themselves, last night's guests having moved on that morning and that night's not yet arrived, and the six of them sat companionably around a table to chat, Olle and Birger still outside with the puppies, before it was time for Maggie, Owen and Ingrid to head back to their chores.

"You're most welcome, dearie," Maggie replied, helping herself to some grapes. "Now, would you like a tub? I've been keeping your room free for weeks for when you returned. It's just as it was."

"Yes, love, that's a great idea. Why don't you bathe while Nib and I talk business?" Fili said quickly. "You must be keen to get back to the Iron Hills as soon as possible, hey Nib?"

Nib looked up from where he was surveying the fruit platter, his hand hovering over it as he decided what to take. He shrugged. "There's no rush, Fili, truly. I'd rather take back a well thought-out plan that we've had time to consider," he said. He selected a peach from the platter, and took a juicy bite. "Besides, I need to take a statement from Sigrid, and that's best done as soon as possible." His warm brown eyes turned towards her. "If you're feeling up to it, of course."

From her initial resigned amusement at Fili being thwarted again in his attempts to discuss security with Nib, Sigrid froze, as everyone else's eyes, concerned and curious, suddenly turned towards her as well.

"A statement?" said Owen, looking from Nib to Sigrid and then to Fili. Fili nodded grimly, with a sidelong glance at Nib. Sigrid laid a hand on his arm.

"It's all right, Fili, we're among friends, and there's no use trying to downplay it," she said. "I'm not sure, Ingrid, Maggie – did Owen tell you what happened to me at the Iron Hills?"

Owen's eyes were suddenly drawn to the corner of the ceiling as Ingrid and Maggie nodded.

"Nyrath, Marni's husband. The Captain of the Guard," Ingrid said. "He… attacked you."

"He did," Sigrid said cautiously, aware of Fili bristling beside her. "I won't go into the details. But he came after me again last night. He followed us from the Iron Hills after a traitor broke him out of prison."

"Oh, my goodness," Maggie said in concern, reaching out a hand to Sigrid. "Are you all right, lass?"

"Fili dealt with him," she said firmly. "He's gone. Nib's troop took him back to the Iron Hills. He won't bother us again."

Maggie and Ingrid were stunned into silence as they absorbed the news, while Owen's bright eyes, astute and perceptive, assessed her.

"No wonder my lord is so keen to begin his business discussions with the new Captain," he said. "Advising on security measures, if I'm not mistaken?"

Fili arched an eyebrow at him. "You're a shrewd man, Owen."

The minstrel's eyes twinkled. "I've been called worse," he said. "Though I prefer to think of it as paying attention. Your dedication to duty is admirable, my lord, and I have no doubt that the safety of your wife and the security of the inhabitants of the Iron Hills are paramount in your concerns." He reached across the table to pick up Sigrid's hand. "But that doesn't quite explain the urgency. This is a lovely bracelet, my lady," he said lightly, tilting her hand to display the bracelet on her wrist. "I don't believe I've seen you wearing it before. Is it new?"

Sigrid glanced at Fili before she spoke, and as soon as she had done so, she knew Owen had registered that too.

"Yes, it is. Fili gave it to me this morning."

"Most generous, and very beautiful. But I would expect nothing less." Owen gently placed her hand back down on the table, and again his eyes twinkled at her. "What was the occasion, may I ask?"

Again she knew Owen's perceptive gaze was assessing her as her mouth worked to suppress a wry smile, squirming, equal parts amusement, guilt and bashfulness.

"If I may echo your words, my lady, you are among friends," he said, an almost chiding appeal in his measured voice as he looked between the two of them, knowing he had detected a secret. "I have seen enough of you both to know that you would go to any lengths to help others. Is there not also a time to let others help you?"

Sigrid looked at Fili, and his blue eyes gazed levelly back at her, indicating that the decision to tell was up to her.

"Today's our wedding anniversary," she confessed at last.

Owen leaned back with a satisfied smile as Maggie clapped her hands and Ingrid leapt up to embrace Sigrid, and she accepted their warm congratulations. Nib swatted Fili on the shoulder.

"Why didn't you say something, Fili? You don't want to be spending the evening talking to me," he said with a jovial laugh. "Seriously, our business can wait."

"I'd hoped to have done with it before this evening, but I couldn't get you to focus," Fili replied with a friendly shove. "How many times did I try?"

"It's pork this week. I'll roast a leg," Maggie said with a beaming smile. "And I'll whip up something special for dessert."

"Maggie, please, there's no need," Fili said. "All your food is delicious. Whatever you had planned will be fine."

Owen leaned back in to the table. "My lord, my lady, you've done much, for all of us. It's time to let us do something for you."

* * *

Sigrid grasped Fili's arm, and he leaned towards her as she whispered in his ear.

"Love, are you sure?" he murmured.

"Yes, I'm sure, Fili. Nib's right, it's better to get the statement over and done with as soon as possible. Then I can forget about it. _We_ can forget about it."

Fili took Sigrid's face between his palms. He knew neither of them would ever be able to forget what Nyrath had tried to do, and that Sigrid's words were more about suppressing her feelings than dealing with them. But then again, he reflected, the mind healed itself in extraordinary ways, and even suppressing one's emotions, in the short term, served a purpose. If that was how she wanted to deal with the situation, then so be it, he would support her, whatever may come of it. He kissed her tenderly.

"All right. Let's do it."

They explained their plan to Maggie, Ingrid and Owen, who immediately excused themselves with claims of pressing work commitments that couldn't possibly wait another moment, and left them to speak privately with Nib.

* * *

An hour later, Sigrid wandered into the kitchen in search of Maggie and Ingrid. She realised her emotions must have been written on her face, judging by Maggie's reaction.

"Oh, here, lass, come and join us," the innkeep said, laying her knife down on the chopping board and guiding Sigrid to a stool. "Let me get you a cup of tea. Where's your husband?"

"Outside, with Nib and Owen," Sigrid replied. "He's showing the lads how he's been training the guard dogs." She looked around the kitchen, where Maggie had been chopping vegetables and Ingrid was beating a bowl of cake batter with a wooden spoon. "Please, is there something I can do to help?"

Maggie placed a mug of hot tea on the table beside Sigrid, and looked at her with her hands on her hips. "Ordinarily I'd say no. You're our guest, lass," the innkeep said. "But you look like you need something to do. To take your mind off things." She fetched another chopping board and a knife from the pantry and set Sigrid up with a bunch of carrots.

Sigrid gave the innkeep a wan smile. She rubbed her forehead, then picked up the knife and began slicing the carrots. "It was awful, what happened," she said quietly, her eyes on the task in front of her. "I told Nib everything. The look on Fili's face…" She stopped and closed her eyes as the carrots began to swim in front of her. She felt Maggie's hand close over hers with a squeeze.

"Here, lass. I know it's hard," she said.

"I'm fine, physically," Sigrid went on, encouraged by Maggie's gentle sympathy. "That's not the problem. I need Fili to know what happened, what Nyrath said to me, but I can see how it torments him. I don't want to put him through that."

Ingrid placed her bowl down on the table. "You don't want to see him in pain," she said softly. "You don't want to be the cause of that pain."

Sigrid nodded, blinking to clear her tears. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and focused again on the vegetables in front of her. Ingrid moved towards her.

"You're not to blame, Sigrid," she said. "You didn't cause this to happen, and though it might pain Fili to hear about it, that doesn't mean you're the cause of that pain." She smiled in compassion at Sigrid, and leaned against the table. "You know, you and Owen are so similar. He tries to avoid talking about Olle's father, because he thinks it will upset me. But seeing him trying so hard to avoid it just makes it worse." She leaned forward again and rubbed Sigrid's arm. "I know it's not the same. Gunnar died so long ago there's no pain left in my memories of him, if only Owen would see it. But for you, this awful thing has just happened, and it's all tied up with fear and grief and helplessness, for you and Fili both. You just need to remember, Sigrid – you're not to blame."

Then the tears fell, and Sigrid couldn't stop them. Ingrid took her in her arms and she leaned against her shoulder, and Maggie stood beside her with a hand on her back. Her words emerged between soft sobs and intakes of breath. "He kept saying he loved me. Nyrath. He said he wanted me, and that he knew I wanted him too. He wouldn't stop."

"He said that?" Maggie said. "It's not true, though, is it? Your husband knows that. He'd never blame you, lass. His only concern would be for you."

All of a sudden something inside Sigrid fell into place. Her disgust at Nyrath's words, the concern she felt in repeating them in front of Fili, was tied up with lingering hurt over the rumours Nyrath had spread about her at the Iron Hills. Sowing doubt was part of Nyrath's game, and she'd fallen for it. Of course Fili understood. She breathed in a lungful of air and gave a great sigh. "You're right. He knows it's not my fault."

"Of course he does, lass. And now _you_ need to know it's not your fault," Maggie said in a matter-of-fact voice. "Which you would if your emotions weren't all over the place. Come on. Have a sip of tea."

Realising what Maggie was referring to, Sigrid sat back on her stool and looked at her, and despite herself she felt a smile creeping across her face. Her hand went to her stomach. "It doesn't make things easier, that's for sure," she said.

Ingrid looked from Sigrid to Maggie and back again, her eyes wide with hesitant suspicions, and Sigrid burst out laughing, wiping the last tears from her eyes. She nodded.

"Yes, I'm expecting," she said, and opened her arms as Ingrid embraced her again, this time squeezing her in stunned delight.

"Oh, that's wonderful news. Congratulations," Ingrid breathed in amazement. "I'm so happy for you both." She let Sigrid go and looked again between her and Maggie. "It's no wonder you're emotional, dear girl. I cried at the drop of a hat when I was carrying Olle."

"Thank you," Sigrid said, her smile heartfelt and grateful. "Thank you both, for everything. I feel worlds better."

"Good," Maggie said. "Now drink your tea, finish those carrots, and then I'll draw you a bath. And after that, it'll be time to get ready for tonight."

* * *

Out at the back of the farm, on the grass beyond the orchard, Fili stood with Nib and Owen and watched as Birger and Olle practised training the puppies with the techniques he'd shown them, using tidbits of food to teach them to sit, stay and lay down.

"She's a strong woman, Fili," Nib said beside him, his eyes also on the lads.

"It should never have happened," Fili replied brusquely.

Nib shifted from foot to foot and glanced sideways at Fili. "You're right, of course. Aurvang's treachery… I should have done better."

"No, Nib. I'm not blaming you," he said. He threw aside the small stick he'd been fiddling with. "It's me. I should never have let Sigrid be exposed to such danger."

"You are a formidable adversary, my lord, but unless you've some hitherto unacknowledged wizard blood in your veins, there was no way you could have foreseen such an event," Owen declared. Fili peered up at the lanky minstrel, towering over him by half as much again.

"True enough," he said, his eyes returning to Birger and Olle, chasing the pups around the grass – or being chased, it was hard to tell. "My head knows that. My gut still wants to…" He clenched his fists and let the sentence die away.

"Understandable, certainly." Owen said smoothly. "But what does your heart tell you?"

Fili sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "I just don't want Sigrid to have to go through anything like that ever again. That's all I care about, really."

"She won't," Nib said. "Onar's got Nyrath in custody. He'll not be escaping again."

Reluctantly, Fili nodded.

"A kind heart is a treasure beyond all the gold in your mountain, my lord," Owen said softly. "Guard it well."


	42. Chapter 42

The afternoon saw the inn slowly fill with travellers arriving from both directions seeking shelter for the night. Two groups of merchants and five tradespeople were greeted by Maggie and allocated rooms as the day wore on, Birger and Olle leading their mounts off to the stables, and when she and Fili came down to dinner Sigrid had never seen the great room so crowded, not that the numbers were large enough to cause her any anxiety. With the smell of roast pork in the air, the buzz of animated conversation around the tables, and the gentle strumming of Owen's lute where he was seated to one side of the room, the atmosphere was homely and comforting, almost festive, more like a gathering of friends at Yuletide than a group of strangers meeting by chance at a roadside inn.

"Would you rather we went out to the table by the orchard?" Fili whispered to her as she stood in the doorway and looked around the room. "They'd understand if we wanted to eat alone tonight, I'm sure."

"No," she whispered back "Not unless you do. It's lovely in here. Everyone seems so friendly."

Fili nuzzled into her hair. "I suppose there'll be time enough later to have you all to myself," he said, and she could tell he was grinning. "And I do want to hear Owen play. I'll wager he'll put on a show tonight."

"I'll wager you're right," she said with an answering grin. She led Fili by the hand to the table at the side of the room where the minstrel was perched, taking a break from his idle strumming to tune his lute strings. His eyes lit up as they approached.

"Ah! The happy couple," he said, gesturing for them to take a seat, and sliding his long legs under the bench beside Fili. "I've been trawling through my repertoire in contemplation of an appropriate serenade for you tonight, my lord and lady. Do you have any requests?"

"Your choices are always perfect, Owen," Sigrid said. "You hardly need us to advise you."

"Although there is one tune I have been meaning to ask you about," Fili said, looking over his shoulder before turning back to the minstrel. He lowered his voice. "That love song, the one you played at the Iron Hills…"

Owen grinned. "Yes, well," he said. "Say no more, my lord. There's quite a story behind it, but I'm far too sober to be telling it just yet." He looked up as Birger appeared at their table with a tray laden with hot oatcakes and cheese, Olle beside him proudly bearing a jug of white wine.

"Mam said to bring you these," Olle said, his eyes on the jug as he slowly lowered it to the table.

Owen laughed. "Just as I was bemoaning my sobriety!" he said. 'Thanks lads. Sit up and help yourselves while I fetch the goblets."

With wide smiles Birger and Olle sat down opposite Fili, both lads' eyes following his every move, unconsciously imitating the way he was sitting and the manner in which he ate his food.

"Two more who'd follow you into the very fires of Mordor, hey Fili?" said a familiar voice, and Nib slid into the bench beside Sigrid, the roundness of his cheeks and the crinkles in his eyes betraying his amusement at the lads' obvious display of hero-worship.

"They'd love anyone who brought them a pup each, Nib," Fili said complacently.

"If you say so," Nib replied, and gave Sigrid a wink. He helped himself to some cheese and was just looking dubiously into the wine jug when Owen returned with the promised goblets, and a tankard of ale that he placed in front of the grateful Nib.

"Undoubtedly more to your taste, Captain," Owen said. "Here you are, my lord, my lady." He poured the wine, lifting his goblet and toasting the others on the table before taking a sip. "Mmm, a fine vintage. Now, I'll tell you my tale, my lord, but with a mind for the youth and innocence that's just joined our table, I'll leave it to you to infer some of the details."

"Oh, surely Nib's not all that innocent," Sigrid quipped, with an impish grin for her friend.

Owen and Fili laughed, and Nib lifted his tankard in Sigrid's direction and took a sip, his wry amusement again registering in his expressive eyes.

"Indeed, I'll bear Nib's delicate sensibilities in mind," Owen said, his eyes twinkling. "I wrote that song for a lady, as you've no doubt guessed, one that I loved so long ago now that it feels like another lifetime. My parents were travelling musicians, far away to the south. My father died young, leaving my mother and I to make our way through the world as best we could. One summer we came to a small town where we were welcomed and bid to stay, and that was where I met her. Nahia, her name was. I was but a lad myself, not yet twenty, and Nahia was the fairest thing I'd ever seen, her hair a halo of dark, glossy curls and brown eyes soft as velvet. But it wasn't her fair face that turned my head, far from it. She… _listened_. To my playing, to my singing, to every rambling, incoherent thought that I saw fit to express. For a rusty, freckle-faced beanpole of a lad whose countenance could win the heart of no lass, it was intoxicating, and I was lost."

"Oh, Owen, you're too hard on yourself," Sigrid said gently.

Owen paused, looking at Sigrid with a curious, wistful expression, and gave her a small half-smile.

"My mother used those very words," he said, his voice soft. "She told me that if I loved her, I should at least try to win her heart." He stopped again, and glanced down at Olle sitting next to him, nibbling absently at an oat cake, and the lad's wide blue eyes left Fili to gaze up at him.

"This was a long time ago, lad, long before I met your mother," Owen said.

Olle's open, trusting face and tranquil gaze betrayed no hint of jealousy. "Was she pretty?" he said.

"She was," Owen replied mildly.

"And you loved her?"

"I did, Olle, very much."

Olle nodded. "Mam loved my da, too. Did your lady die, like my da?"

"No, she didn't die." Owen glanced back around the table. "All my longing, all the tender, youthful love of my heart, I poured into that song, and with it thought I'd won her. It certainly seemed so, for a while." He raised an eyebrow, and the implication was all too clear. "Unfortunately for me, I wasn't the only one she had been listening to." He stopped, and took a sip of wine, but despite Sigrid's concern at this turn in his story, he didn't seem angry or bitter, just philosophical.

Absorbed in the tale, Nib leaned forward. "She had another suitor?"

"She did indeed, Captain. A rather large one, who took it amiss when he found the two of us together one day. I was simply holding her hand."

Nib's eyes widened. "What happened?" he prompted, leaning further forward.

"A black eye and three broken ribs," Owen said lightly. He drained his wine, placed the goblet back down slowly, and shrugged. Next to Olle, Birger's ears had pricked up, and he frowned.

"Did you get hurt, Owen?" he said.

The minstrel sat up straighter and continued his light tone. "It's all right, Birger. I did get hurt, but it was a long time ago. I'm all right now."

Beside Sigrid, Fili shook his head. "I wonder that you still play the song," Fili said. "Does it not hold too many bitter memories?"

Owen grinned an impish grin. "The song's splendid. You heard it," he said. "I love the song. It's mine, it came from the best of me, and I'll always be grateful for that, despite how things turned out. No, the one regret I have was for my mother. She blamed herself for the beating, for having encouraged me to pursue the lass. I never could convince her otherwise."

Sigrid reached across the table to lay her hand on Owen's. "She loved you, that's why. It's what mothers do. What happened to her?"

Owen smiled down at Sigrid's hand, and when he looked up, the smile faded and turned rueful. "She died of a fever, ten years ago. I miss her to this day."

His words hung in the air for a moment, and with the pause Sigrid became aware of the noise in the room, the conversations and clattering of the guests at the other tables, that had faded into the background while Owen related his story. Then suddenly Owen lifted his arms in surprise as Olle threw his own around Owen's waist and hugged him tightly, snuggling his small body against his stepfather's large one.

"But you have Mam and me now, Owen," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, holding Olle close and leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

"What's all this?" came Maggie's voice from behind them, brisk and forthright, and the innkeep reached between Birger and Olle to place a steaming platter of roast meat and vegetables in the centre of the table. She stood with her hands on her hips and looked around the table. "Everyone's choked up. What on earth have you been talking about?"

"We've been talking of love, my dear Maggie," said Owen cheerfully, giving Olle another squeeze and smiling at Maggie, his eyes flicking to Sigrid's to give her a wink. "What else is there?"

"There's dinner, is what. Birger, Olle, eat up, and then it's off to bed." Each lad gave a disappointed groan, but Maggie held firm. "Fili will be here tomorrow. Won't you?" she inquired, her eyes questioning despite the certainty in her voice.

"Yes, we'll be here tomorrow. We'll be here for the week, if that's all right, Maggie," Fili said.

The innkeep beamed. "It's more than all right. I did hope you'd be staying," she said. "Now eat up. There's something special for dessert."

* * *

Once the guests had been served Maggie and Ingrid joined them at the table, and they devoured the delicious meal, savouring the succulent meat with its crispy crackling, the golden, crunchy roast potatoes with their fluffy white insides, and the assortment of braised and steamed vegetable accompaniments. As everyone finished eating, Sigrid, Fili and Nib offered to help clear the tables and were good-naturedly shouted down by their hosts, and then Ingrid proudly brought out a large cake, sweet with honey and spices and decorated in Dwarven fashion, with designs made from almond paste, surrounding a central pattern depicting Fili's emblem.

"How did you do that?" Fili said in surprise and delight as he saw the decoration.

"Owen has a letter you gave him, with your symbol inscribed on the seal," Ingrid replied. "It was easy enough to copy."

"It looks wonderful, and I'll wager it tastes even better," said Sigrid. "Thank you Ingrid, thank you Maggie. We couldn't have wished for a better anniversary dinner."

The cake was large enough for every guest to sample, with many coming back for seconds and even thirds, and as they topped up their tankards and wine goblets, Owen tuned his string instruments and resumed the gentle strumming he'd begun earlier, letting his tune wander along with his imagination before settling on a well-known folk tune from the Blue Mountains. Sigrid straddled the bench and settled herself back against Fili's chest, as she remembered doing here once before, to listen to Owen play.

A table of dwarven merchants were clapping and stamping along with the folk tune, and when one tipsy soul rose to perform an eccentric jig, Sigrid shared a grin with Fili over her shoulder, both of them reminded of Bofur. The merchants threw coin at Owen's feet as it ended, and he transitioned straight into an Iron Hills tune, causing the other table of merchants to cheer and lift their tankards in appreciation. A gentle tug at her sleeve caught Sigrid's attention during Owen's third tune, and Olle opened his arms to both her and Fili to wish them goodnight before he and Birger headed to bed. Owen blew a kiss to his stepson as he left, and with a sly glance at Sigrid he began a dance tune from Laketown, one with a rhythm so irresistible that it brought Sigrid to her feet. She held her skirts in her hands and started dancing, and was soon joined by Ingrid, the two of them facing off in the centre of the room with their skirts swishing left and right as they paced out the steps, their hands clapping and feet stamping amid the clapping of the small crowd of guests and their own breathless laughter.

Sigrid stopped in front of Fili as the tune ended, panting and smiling, her hair starting to fall down from her braided bun, and held out her hand. As Fili took it and rose to join her, his sunny blue eyes soft as they gazed at her, Owen laid aside his lute and took up his golden harp.

The tune that came rippling out of the harp was as soft as Fili's eyes, and as tender as the love the minstrel bore for his sweetheart and her child. Fili took Sigrid in his arms and held her close, guiding her slowly around the room, and she nestled her head against his and forgot that there was anyone else in the room at all. They swayed from side to side, and when Owen's deep, crooning voice joined his harp, she snuggled her face closer to Fili's ear and breathed in the scent of him.

Then something happened that caught Sigrid's attention. Another voice joined Owen's, silver to his gold, a woman's voice, natural and untutored where his was practised and measured, yet rich and full and sweet, and so spellbinding, the two voices complementing each other so gloriously, that every head in the room turned to watch as Ingrid stepped forward to stand next to her sweetheart.

With their eyes locked they sang to each other, and the joy on Owen's face as the sound of their duet filled the room was beautiful to see. This song of love was different again to any Sigrid had yet heard Owen play, not the reverent benediction of Jorunn and Onar's wedding, and not the slow, sensuous seduction of the song he'd written for Nahia, his first love. This was love in its purest sense, true love, sweet, honest, and vulnerable, the kind that you give without expectation and that you accept in the humblest gratitude and wonder, knowing how rare and precious it is, and as Sigrid turned back to Fili and slid her arms around his neck, within her there welled up a feeling so profound, so overwhelming, that she found herself blinking away tears. Mesmerised by the duet, no-one noticed the two of them slip away.

* * *

It was the awareness between them as they stood and gazed at each other. It was the slow advance of his hands as he unbuttoned her bodice, one by one, and of hers over his chest as she slid his shirt off his shoulders. It was the slow caress of the tips of his fingers on her skin, sliding up her back to sink into her hair, making her shiver, and it was the anticipation in his breath the moment before his lips touched hers. It was the way her body felt when he held her to him, skin on skin, and the sound of his whispered Khuzdul in her ear, and the scent of him that she breathed in. It was the climax of pleasure he brought her to, certainly, but even more than that, it was the feel of him, of the masculine outline of his body and the soft roughness of his beard, of the way he collapsed beside her when he was spent and gathered her into his arms, utterly vulnerable and still wanting her close, and the feeling that it need never end. That it would never end. That was what it was. It was love. It was home.


	43. Chapter 43

Sigrid lay back on her bedroll and looked up at the clear night sky. Her stomach was pleasantly full, and for the moment at least there was no sign of nausea. Dessert was a handful of the ripe blackberries that Fili had gathered from the bramble down by the stream. He'd been right when he'd said they would be ripe by the time they returned. They were delicious – tart-sweet and juicy. She looked for her constellation amongst the stars twinkling overhead, like gems scattered on an inky velvet cloth. There it was, Sigrid's Saucepan, and there, beside it, Fili's Other Boot Knife. She smiled, feeling the touch of their tiny golden replicas on her wrist.

"I'm going to miss sleeping under the stars," she said softly.

Beside her, Fili raised himself on one elbow.

"Really?" he said, a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. "You're not telling me you've come to enjoy camping?"

Sigrid shrugged, impishly reluctant to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. "I'm not saying I'm a convert, but there is something lovely about falling asleep with the stars overhead. We can't see them from our room in the Mountain."

Fili chuckled and snuggled close into her side. "We can always go on another trip. Or better still, I'll drag our bed out to the parapet."

Sigrid laughed and popped another blackberry in her mouth, holding the last one out for Fili. He took it between his teeth with an appreciative hum, and she thought about the first time they'd camped here in this clearing, the first night of their journey. It was eleven weeks ago now. She'd been unable to relax, the stress of their struggles with infertility and the rift it had caused between them too fresh in her mind, and unable to shake the lingering feeling of the responsibilities she'd had on her shoulders. She was free of it now, though. All of it. She was returning home with what they had longed for, a child in her belly, and with the knowledge she had wanted about other couples like herself and Fili, ones who had succeeded in raising families. She also had her husband's unwavering love and support. And protection. If it hadn't been for Fili…

She tried to stop the train of thought, to stop where it was leading her, to stop thinking the name that daily threatened to rob her of her peace of mind. She couldn't. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye, and she drew in some fast, deep breaths, a last-minute attempt to keep her feelings at bay, but a sob rose and stuck in her throat, and like a dam breaking, the tears came. She turned into Fili's open arms, and laid her head on his chest, and sobbed.

He didn't say anything, he just held her, and stroked her hair, and let her cry until she was spent.

"Ah love," he said at last. "It was bound to come sometime. You're safe now. You're with me. There's nothing to fear."

She breathed in again, the same quick, deep breaths, to regain some control of herself. "I know," she mumbled into his chest. He continued holding her gently, stroking her hair, and she drew comfort from it, from the feel of his arms around her, the scent of him, and the fact that it was him, Fili, the one she loved, who was the one holding her, the one more dear to her than anyone on the face of the earth. Her breathing slowed until she finally drew in a great lungful of air and let out a huge sigh. She lifted her head. "I know. It's over. But Fili, it was so awful. If you hadn't been there… or Will, or Nib…"

"Sigrid. Breathe, love," he interrupted her. "You're safe. We're together. You need to stay in the present and focus on that. Focus on me, on us, the three of us."

She hung her head and nodded. She knew that what he said was true, that dwelling on what might have been served no purpose, and she felt almost ashamed that she'd let it all get to her now, after keeping it at bay for so long. She had more than just herself to think of now. She closed her eyes as Fili's hand cupped her cheek.

"Amralime, stop. Please," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Your thoughts are plain as day on your face. Don't blame yourself for giving in to your fears. You're been through more in the last few years than most people will face in a lifetime. You're allowed to feel the pain of it. You're allowed to be affected by it, even if it overwhelms you sometimes. There's no shame in that."

She opened her eyes and looked at Fili's face, and his thumb wiped yet more tears from her eyes, but they weren't the tears of fear and pain that she'd been shedding moments earlier; they were love, spilling straight from the surge of emotion that had filled her heart at Fili's words.

"You," she said, giving him a nudge, not knowing how to express what she felt. She felt a grin tug at her mouth. "I still don't know how you do that."

* * *

The afternoon was warm and grey, the sky covered with billowing clouds. The hum of the insects in the low bushes beside the road and the clop, clop of the ponies' loping steps were the only sounds breaking the silence around them, and they were lulling Sigrid almost to sleep. Even the birds seemed to have disappeared. She looked over at Fili, his body swaying gently to the rhythm of Mindy's steps, and had the feeling that she'd just missed him looking at her. She knew he was still worried about her, and he wouldn't be truly at ease until they arrived back home. It wasn't too far ahead now. The pointed peak of the Lonely Mountain stood dark and hazy in front of them, against the lighter grey of the sky. Now, with the end of their journey in sight, and a cool bath and a soft bed beckoning, Sigrid realised just how tired she was.

She must have sighed, because Fili's head snapped towards her.

"Are you all right, beloved?" he said.

"I'm just tired, Fili, and longing to be home."

"Not too far now," he replied, motioning with his head towards the Mountain in front of them. He grinned at her. "Do you not recognise where we are?"

Sigrid looked around at the dusty road and the nondescript bushes that lined it on either side, gorse, heather, and clumps of bracken, no different to the mile upon mile of heathland that they'd been traversing for days. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Ten miles from home, give or take a few," she said. "Why? What's to recognise?"

Fili simply chuckled in response. "You'll see."

Barely a quarter of a mile further they came to a large, bare wooden post, grey and splintered with rot, marking an otherwise barely visible cart track leading to the north, and Fili turned Mindy off the road. Sigrid stopped Daisy short, bewildered.

"Fili? Where are you going?"

Fili didn't stop. He called to her over his shoulder. "Come on."

Exasperated, but amused and curious at the same time, Sigrid urged her pony forward and followed Fili up the path.

It led to a farmhouse, a ramshackle affair of grey weathered timber and crooked shingles, with a verandah that drooped threateningly on the right-hand side where one of its posts had broken. A large stable, rather less run-down, stood next to it, and behind them Sigrid caught a glimpse of a market garden, tilled neatly in perfectly straight furrows, and beyond that, amongst the heather that grew abundantly up the low rise where the farm was situated, row upon row of small, square beehives.

They pulled up their ponies as a figure opened the front door and hurried towards them, capering from side to side with glee on his small bandy legs and pointing at them as if they'd just played the funniest joke in the world on him.

"Hail, friend Draupnir!" Fili cried. "How do you fare?"

Draupnir stood in front of the ponies, hopping from foot to foot and grinning like a loon.

"You two! What a lark!" he croaked. "I was at the tavern, and I says to old Holger Smith, I says, 'I met this nice couple,' and he says 'pssht, Draupnir Olafsson, when are you ever like to meet anyone?' and I says I did, and I said you was a dwarf and a lass, rich as lords, travelling off to the east, and he looks at me and says 'fair haired?' and I said yes and he says 'you fool, that was a lord, that was the prince from up the Mountain' and here all the time you was a prince, and never a word! What a lark! I said the lady served me from her own hands, the best wine you'd ever tasted, and you should have seen his face!"

Fili grinned and let the grizzled farmer babble on in his excitement. He dismounted, made his way to the pack pony, and unbuckled the skin of wine that he'd ordered in the Iron Hills, that had remained untouched for weeks, as Sigrid now realised, expressly for this purpose. He handed it to Draupnir.

"I'm afraid we can't stop, friend Draupnir, but we brought you this from the Iron Hills, with our compliments. The same vintage as we shared before."

Draupnir's eyes grew round as he realised what Fili was offering him. He slowly accepted the wine skin, then broke out into a joyous, incredulous laugh and with another caper, slapped Fili on the shoulder.

"No! Truly? A whole skin of it?" he said. "What a lark! Wait 'til I tell old Holger Smith!"

With a firm shake of Draupnir's hand, Fili remounted and turned Mindy back towards the road. Sigrid smiled at the farmer and waved farewell, and they rode off, leaving him dancing in front of his farmhouse, brandishing the wine skin high in the air in one hand, and waving with the other.

* * *

They came at last to the outlying fields of Dale, and Sigrid thought she'd never seen anything sweeter. The dry summer crops were intended for stockfeed, and were hardly a spectacle, but they were made beautiful in her eyes by seeing something so familiar after so long an absence, and by the knowledge that she was nearly home. Everywhere she looked she saw places she recognised, and saw people she knew going about their daily chores, sparing a moment to register the travellers from the corner of their eyes but not realising from their casual, travel-stained clothing that it was their prince and princess returning. The sights filled her with happiness and a renewed appreciation for the town and the people she loved.

Then the scent of lavender filled the air, and they passed the lavender farm where the child Hannah had given her a bouquet, the day they first set out. The family were again out amongst the bushes, gathering clippings that they laid carefully in baskets on their arms, making the most of the summer flowering season. Sigrid smiled and waved as they looked up at the passing travellers, expecting a wave in return, but all of them, mother, father, and the two daughters, dropped their baskets and hurried to the roadside, beaming and shouting their welcome.

"My lord, my lady, you have returned!" Hannah's mother cried.

"My lady! My lady!" Hannah piped, skipping alongside Sigrid's pony. "Welcome home!"

The family's reaction attracted the attention of other farmers as they proceeded, and gradually the crowd accompanying them into Dale grew, hurrying along beside them with cheers and shouts of joy. Someone handed a laughing toddler up to Fili and he rode on with the child seated in front of him. It reminded Sigrid of the welcome they'd received on their way in to the Iron Hills, surrounded by a crowd eager to see them, but there the reaction had been prompted by curiosity, and novelty, whereas here… these were her people. They loved her, and had missed her, and were full of gladness that she had returned. Happy tears clouded her vision as they reached the ford of the river Running under the south-eastern slope of the Mountain, where they stopped, their path ahead blocked by two riders. One of them spoke.

"What's all this, then, Tauriel? Can't we take a simple ride out without all this commotion?"

It was Kili.


	44. Chapter 44

Kili and Tauriel were mounted and standing at the other side of the ford, their horses fidgeting nervously from the noise and movements of the crowd. Tauriel was beaming her rare, beautiful smile, and Kili was laughing with joy, already sliding off his pony to start running through the ford towards his brother, splashing water everywhere. Fili hurriedly handed the toddler in his lap to its father, and slid down from Mindy to be enveloped in Kili's enormous bear hug.

The crowd cheered, causing the horses to skitter, with even the normally unflappable Daisy flattening her ears against her skull. The two brothers broke their hug, laughing and slapping each other on the shoulder.

"Ah, brother, by my scruffy beard it's good to see you!" Kili said, raising his voice over the crowd, and pulled his brother in for another hug. Tauriel guided her horse across the ford, leading Kili's by the reins, then dismounted and handed them off to a bystander. Sigrid slipped down from Daisy to embrace her friend.

"Mae govannen, mellon-nin!" Tauriel said, then leaned close to murmur into Sigrid's ear. "He's been riding out every day for weeks, in hopes of meeting you. We've both missed you, but Kili –" She stopped as Sigrid smiled in understanding and looked towards the two brothers, who were still laughing between hugs and slapping each other on the chest.

"We meant to be away six weeks, and what has it been – eleven? Twelve?" she said. "I don't think they've ever been apart for so long. Oh, Tauriel, it's good to see you. We've so much to tell you."

Any chance of telling Tauriel anything was lost as Kili swooped on her with an exuberant embrace. She laughed as he lifted her off the ground, span her around, and deposited her gently down again.

"Sister! How do you fare? You're looking very well, I must say," Kili said with an admiring smile. "Travelling agrees with you, clearly. How's our kin? Was Marni as insufferable as ever?"

"Time enough for that later, Kili. Let's get home first," Fili said, mindful of the crowd of villagers around them. He turned to where he'd left Mindy, then looked up the road where she, Daisy and the other horses were being led away by a couple of the villagers, in a gesture obviously intended to be helpful. He frowned, and raised his hand to call them back, when Kili stopped him.

"Why don't we walk?" he said. "I would have thought you'd be pleased to be out of the saddle after all this time."

Fili looked at Sigrid, the crease of concern deep in his brow. Then it cleared, and he gave her a mischievous grin, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I'll walk, and gladly, but as for you, beloved…" he said, and he scooped Sigrid up in his arms, and started splashing his way across the ford.

"Fili, put me down. I can walk," she cried, as the crowd still milling around them laughed and cheered. Fili kept walking, his eyes twinkling, but his sunny blue gaze was firm.

"Tell me you're not tired, and I will," he murmured. "You said it yourself, love. It's not far." She sighed, but she relaxed in his arms, and he grinned and raised his voice. "Kili, be so good as to send a messenger to Bard to let them know we're home."

* * *

By the time Fili had carried Sigrid up the wide sweep of road to the Great Gate of Erebor, with its imposing twin statues standing guard on each flank, the news of their return had spread not only to what seemed like the entire town of Dale, but ahead to half the inhabitants of the Mountain as well. At the top of the broad steps at the threshold of the Gate, Fili lowered Sigrid carefully onto her feet, and took her hand as he waved to the crowd.

"Thank you everyone for your kind welcome. We're happy to be home, and it seems as though you've missed us as well. In fact, I'd say a feast is called for – I'll see what we can do." He paused as the crowd gave a cheer. "But for now, please excuse us. It's been a tiring journey, and we need to rest. Thank you."

With more scattered applause and happy murmuring at the prospect of an unexpected feast, the crowd started to disperse. As they parted, Sigrid caught a glimpse of her friend Britte, a babe with bright eyes in her arms, her own face solemn, standing looking at her amongst the throng. Sigrid raised her hand to wave and beckon her over, but Britte lowered her head and turned away, and Sigrid lost sight of her in the crowd. She felt Fili's warm touch on her elbow.

"Come, love, you need to rest," he said softly, and with a last crestfallen glance over her shoulder, she let Fili lead her away.

* * *

It was mildly surprising that their chamber was just as they'd left it, which was odd, Sigrid thought as she sat down on the bed and looked around. Why should she have expected it to be different? She pulled off her riding boots, and plumped some pillows up behind her to settle back on the bed, and watched as Fili removed blade after blade from the various places he'd secreted them around his person and placed them back on his weapons rack. She knew he was keen to clean up and talk to his family as soon as possible – especially Kili. But it was Britte's aloof reaction that was in her thoughts.

"I saw Britte in the crowd, with little Gwennie," she said. "I'm certain she saw me, but she just turned away when I waved at her."

Fili stopped and turned towards Sigrid, a hunting knife in his hand and his brow creased in concern. He positioned the knife back in place on the rack, and sat down beside her on the bed. "Strange, that's not like her. When you're rested, go and have a chat. Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll soon sort it out."

Sigrid nodded, and leaned on Fili's shoulder with a sigh. "I hope so. I wouldn't blame her if she is upset with me, though. I should have gone to see her when Gwennie was born, no matter what my own problems were."

"She'll understand if you explain it to her, love," he said softly. She leaned back as he lifted his arm around her, then snuggled back into his side. His voice lowered to a whisper in her ear. "Is it easier now to be around a bairn, knowing that you've one of your own on the way?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "We've a way to go yet, I know, but it is. It's like before, I was standing outside a house, in the dark, and I could see everyone through the windows. I wanted so much to join them, but I wasn't allowed in. And now they've opened the door."

Fili didn't answer, but the arm around her tightened and he turned and kissed her hair. Sigrid took Fili's other hand and guided it to her stomach. They sat like that in silence, content in the moment, and consoled by the knowledge that their lives had turned a corner since last they were here. One that Sigrid knew Fili was eager to share; as indeed was she. She grinned, and pulled back to look at him.

"So. How are we going to do this? Telling everyone, I mean."

Fili returned her grin. "Bath first. And a nap if you need one, my love. No, you said you were tired," he said as she began to laughingly remonstrate. "If I know Mother she'll invite us to her chambers for supper tonight. Let's do it then."

* * *

Fili did know his mother. The parchment containing Dis' polite invitation appeared under their door as they emerged from the bathroom after their bathe, refreshed and relaxed and warm, and wrapped in fluffy white towels. Sigrid picked up the note as Fili stretched out on the bed, his hands behind his head.

"Da's been invited, and Tilda and Bain too," she said as her eyes scanned the parchment. She looked up with a smile. "It's perfect."

Fili's lips curved into a complacent grin, a touch smug and all dimples. "Knew it. Mother can't resist turning everything into an event."

"No more can you, my love. You promised everyone a feast, remember?" Sigrid said with a laugh. "Anyway, Dis's going to get more than she bargained for tonight."

She climbed up beside Fili and snuggled into his side, grateful to be back in the cosiness of their own bed, and dozed for an hour or so before it was time to stir themselves to dress and make their way to Dis's chambers for supper. She pulled an embroidered skirt and blouse from her chest, and gave Fili a significant look as she showed him how loose she had to tie the ribbons of the skirt. Her growing belly was disguised by its folds, but to those who knew her well, it was certainly possible to tell she had gained weight.

"You look beautiful," Fili said, trying to ease her self-consciousness.

"Thank you, my love, but it's a good thing we're making this announcement now," she replied. "Another couple of weeks and no-one will be the least bit surprised to hear it."

* * *

Fili took Sigrid's hand as he led the way through the corridors of the Mountain to his mother's chambers. Normally unflappable, he realised he actually felt a few nerves mixed in with the excitement in his stomach, and wondered at their origin. He had no concerns on a personal level – he knew their families would be nothing but overjoyed by the news. There were other ramifications, though. As the heir to the Mountain, his and Sigrid's child would be in line to inherit after him. Would his people be as accepting as his family were sure to be? Not for the first time, he thought of abdicating his position. He'd do it if it came down to it - Sigrid and their child came first. Then he felt the pressure of her hand warm in his, and he turned to look at her as they walked, and his fears evaporated like dew in the morning sun under the warmth of the smile she gave him. There was nothing to be concerned about. The people of the Mountain had grown to love Sigrid as one of their own. No doubt they'd learn to love their babe too.

He stopped outside his mother's door, and looked at Sigrid.

"Ready?

She nodded.

"All right, here goes," he said, and opened the door.

A chorus of cheers went up as they looked through the door. They were all waiting for them. Dis was already walking towards them, her arms outstretched for an embrace; Bard lifted the goblet in his hand in salute, calling "welcome home!" with Bain grinning beside him with his own goblet raised; Tilda came dancing forward from where she was chatting with Tauriel to hug her sister; Thorin was standing on the sidelines, beaming his rare, proud smile; and then Kili was pressing goblets into their hands, and they stood a trifle sheepishly as he proposed a toast.

"We've missed you, brother, and you too, Sigrid, and we're glad your journey's ended. We've food and drink to celebrate, so let's tuck in. Here's to you!"

Fili sipped, and from the corner of his eye he saw Sigrid lift her goblet to her lips and then lower it, untasted. No-one else appeared to notice. Kili came forward to clap him on the back, motioning him towards the supper table, but Fili stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Just a moment, Kili, everyone. Thanks for that kind welcome, we're glad to see you too. But there's something we want to say." Everyone paused and turned back towards him, their expressions ranging from forbearance to mild puzzlement. He swallowed, and looked at Sigrid, and she stepped closer to his side. He put his arm around her and squeezed her against him, and then looked his brother in the face, not wanting to miss a moment of his reaction, as they said in unison: "We're having a baby."

The words hung in the air. Then everyone began talking at once, crowding around them with kisses and handshakes and congratulations, but Fili was watching Kili's eyes. They widened, his mouth agape, then with a shout he flew at the two of them, knocking Bain sideways, and enveloped them in a bear hug.

"An uncle!" he said, and, one in each arm, he began to shake them up and down in his excitement. "Did you hear that, Tauriel? I'm going to be an uncle!"

"You'll be nothing at all if you don't let Sigrid go," Fili said, his laugh belying the seriousness of his words.

Kili abruptly let them go and leapt backwards three feet, a look of horror on his face.

"It's all right, Kili, I won't break," Sigrid said with a laugh of her own, and opened her arms for a renewal of Kili's embrace. He obliged her, this time with far less exuberance. He hugged her gently, a happy smile on his face, then gave her up to her father and rounded on Fili. He had no words, just a manic grin as he began pummelling at Fili's chest and arms and trying to grab him in a headlock.

This was what Fili had been expecting. He pummelled back, the two of them laughing and wrestling, as the others quickly backed out of their way. They stopped, breathing heavily and still trying to shove each other, only when his mother intervened with a couple of half-hearted cuffs aimed at their ears.

"Enough, you two," Dis said crisply. "Fili, some decorum please. You're going to be a father." She looked at him, and he practically saw her melt as the import of her words sunk in, and she reached up to embrace him. "Oh, my son," she said. "My dear lad. A father. I'm so happy for you." She pulled back to look at him again, touched his cheek tenderly, and then, despite a valiant effort to maintain her own composure, her face crumpled. Fili gave a low croon and gathered her in his arms.

"Oh, there, Mother, it's all right," he said, rubbing her gently on the back. Sigrid made her way to them and added her own comforting hand to Dis' shoulder. Dis looked up and hurriedly dabbed at her eyes, sniffing.

"Forgive me, Sigrid dear. Tears on such a happy occasion," she said. "I don't know what came over me."

"Dis, please." Sigrid took her hand. "They're happy tears. There's quite a few in the room, if you haven't noticed." Sigrid glanced at Fili, then continued. "And at the risk of creating more, I want to thank you. You never stopped encouraging and supporting me, even when I couldn't see how things would ever work out."

Dis smiled through her tears and patted Sigrid's hand. "My dear daughter. I only ever wanted to see you happy." She reached for Fili's hand and squeezed it. "Both of you."

"Nonsense, Mother. We all know you're after some grandchildren to dandle on your knee," Kili piped up. "Now if you're all done weeping, let's eat."


	45. Chapter 45

The homelights of Dale shone warm in the darkness before them, outnumbered a thousand times over by the paler, distant twinkling of the stars in the sky above. The light breeze that wafted up the wall brought the sound of the falls with it, the faint, never-ceasing rushing of water that formed the backdrop to every tryst they'd ever had on the parapet. Sigrid sighed and leaned her head against Fili's.

"That was a big sigh," he whispered against her hair. "Are you not glad to be home, love?"

Sigrid's gaze never left the scene in front of her as she considered the question. "I'm glad for the baby's sake," she replied. She nestled her head closer to Fili's and caressed his arm where his hand held hers in its warm clasp. "No, I am happy to be home, truly. I guess I got used to it being just the two of us, out on the road. I miss it already."

Fili gave a low chuckle. "And to think I had to convince you to go," he murmured. He let go of her hand to stretch his arm up and around her, and she snuggled closer still. "I'd say it was a perfect trip, except for…" He stiffened, and fell silent.

"Nyrath. You can say his name, Fili." Sigrid drew back to look at her husband. His mouth was set in a grim line as he stared out into the night, avoiding her gaze. She lifted a hand to his cheek and turned his face towards her, and a shadow of anguish haunted the depths of his clear blue eyes. "Listen to me," she said softly. "I'm not afraid. I wasn't then, and I'm not now." She took his hand and held it over the swell of her stomach. "You kept us safe, both of us. It's time to put it behind us."

As he gazed into her eyes she saw the anguish soften, replaced by a melting tenderness and a wistful smile.

"Ah, love," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

She knew his apology was loaded with meaning. He was sorry for bringing up the topic, for reminding her of what she'd suffered at Nyrath's hands both in the Iron Hills and on the road; sorry for not being able to prevent it, as he continued to reproach himself for, although she didn't believe any blame should lay with him on that score; and sorry purely for ruining the sweet simplicity of the moment. He hadn't ruined anything, though. She held his gaze with her hand on his cheek, caressing with her thumb the faint crease where his dimple should be. She had to bring it back.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love, nothing at all. Now, guess what I'm thinking about."

The dimple underneath her thumb deepened as he looked at her, a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth and his eyes narrowing with a spark of amusement.

"Hmm. What are you thinking about?" he pondered, and she was glad he was willing to play her game and let her distract him from his misgivings. "Not the family, they were overjoyed at the news. I don't think Mother's stopped crying yet. Food? You ate enough for three at dinner, so I'd say not that either." He grinned and flinched as she whacked his shoulder in pretended outrage. "I know you're worried about Britte, but I don't think that's what you mean."

Sigrid sighed again, momentarily serious, and looked again out at the night. "I am worried about Britte. I'll go and see her first thing tomorrow, to try to explain. But you're right, that's not what I was thinking about." She gave him a sidelong glance from underneath her lashes. "I can't believe you can't guess."

"Well, _I'm_ reminded of that night at the Pick and Shovel," Fili said softly, nuzzling to her ear. "The night we first learned you were pregnant, and we ate our supper out in the orchard and dreamed of sitting up here. Only then it was sunset I was thinking of."

"Mm, you got it," she said with an indulgent, satisfied smile. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

"I do," he murmured, shifting to turn towards her. He brushed her hair away from her neck and leaned in, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I said it's impossible not to want to kiss you on the parapet." She held her breath, feeling his inhale and exhale softly against her, and after an exquisite pause, he pressed his lips to her skin.

* * *

He slid his hand into her hair as he kissed his way up to her lips. As she always did, she knew his unspoken thoughts, his doubts and self-recriminations, and she knew how to distract him from them. The thing he was most grateful for, though, and the thing that eased his doubts the most, was the certainty, the absolute conviction with which she believed in him. It heartened him more than he could say. It reminded him a little of Kili's devotion, although that, he knew, stemmed from the bonds of fraternal love, whereas Sigrid loved him for himself, for the person he was, and the person he tried to be. He held her close and drank in her kisses, breathing in the sweet scent of her, his heart full, and wondered again how he could ever have been so lucky as to have found her.

* * *

Britte's shop in town was small, the room in front a clutter of colourful bolts of fabric, some displayed in horizontal rows against the walls, with others standing on their ends in great wooden boxes, their tops splayed out so haphazardly that in places you had to duck around them as you walked. Sigrid moved tentatively through the maze, unsure of her reception, towards the large cutting table at the back of the room. Britte was there, tying up a parcel for a customer Sigrid recognised: Ragna, a market gardener from the western fields. Britte looked up, briefly registered Sigrid's presence with expressionless eyes, and turned back to her customer.

"There you go, Ragna. Any problems, come back and see me," Britte said, placing the parcel in Ragna's waiting arms. Ragna thanked her and turned to go, almost bumping into Sigrid.

"Oh, my Lady Sigrid, apologies, I didn't see you there!" she said in surprise. A stream of chatter ensued, with Ragna hardly drawing breath herself, let alone giving Sigrid a chance to respond. "Welcome home, yes. It's lovely to have you back. Are you well? Come to visit your good friend Britte, I see? Lovely to see such a good friendship, yes, lovely. No doubt she was first on your list of people to visit now that you're back, my lady?"

Ragna turned her complacent, smiling face from Sigrid to Britte, obviously expecting smiles of agreement in response. She didn't receive any. Britte stood impassive, her face an expressionless mask, and Sigrid tried to hide the heartache that that caused. To her credit, as she slowly looked between the two of them, Ragna realised there was something amiss. Her smile faded, and she made some mumbled excuses for hasty departure that Sigrid didn't hear.

Britte drew herself up. "Welcome home, Lady Sigrid. How can I help you?"

Stung by the use of her title, she didn't know what to say. In desperation she decided to take a leaf from Ragna's book, and let it all tumble out. "Britte, I understand if you're mad at me. I'd be mad at me too. But please, let me explain. I'm sorry I didn't come to see you when Gwennie was born. It was me. I… I couldn't do it."

Britte gave a curt nod, her mask still in place. "It's all right, I realise how busy you are now, up at the Mountain. It was probably silly of me to think… but thank you for coming and apologising. I appreciate it." She moved to turn away, but Sigrid caught hold of her arm.

"No, you don't understand. It wasn't because I was busy. It was because… it hurt too much." Sigrid felt hot tears begin to well in her eyes, as they often did when she became emotional, but she blinked them away. She had to make Britte understand. "You're so blessed, you and Arrild. You don't realise what it's like. Year after year we'd been longing for a child, and… nothing. I felt so useless." The tears fell then, and Sigrid let them. "It seemed as though everyone got to be a mother except me, and I didn't know why. And then Gwennie came, and…"

She didn't finish. She didn't need to. The mask covering Britte's emotions fell away, replaced by a stricken look that was a mixture of guilt, sorrow and compassion, and she opened her arms, and skirted around the cutting table to embrace her friend. In her relief, Sigrid made a sound that was part laugh and part sob, and hugged her.

"Oh, Sig. You're right, I didn't realise," she said. Unlike Sigrid, Britte wasn't a crier – it was rare to see her wiping tears from her own eyes. "I thought I'd done something to upset you, or you were too busy, or too grand now to be friends." She gave Sigrid a nudge. "You goose. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Sigrid's laugh burst from her at Britte's no-nonsense tone, and she nudged her back. "You're the goose, if you think I'd give up being your friend. No, it wasn't that I didn't think you'd understand. It was just too painful. I didn't want to talk about it to anyone except Fili." She paused, and her smile softened. "It's not painful any more, though. Britte, we're having a baby."

Britte's happy shriek pierced Sigrid's ears, and they hugged again, Britte swaying her back and forth in her excitement. From the corner of her eye Sigrid saw a movement by the doorway to the back room, and turned to see a small face peering around the door jamb.

"Mama?"

It was Ailidh, Britte's eldest after her two stepsons. Britte gestured for her to come out. "It's all right, sweetheart, Mama's just happy. Have you finished your snack? Come and say hello to Sigrid." Britte disappeared into the back room, and Sigrid followed her to the doorway to greet Ailidh.

"Hello darling," Sigrid said softly, squatting on her haunches to bring herself down to the four-year-old's level. She felt the child's sticky hands wind around her neck, and a fruit-smeared cheek squeezed against hers. It was wonderful. As the child let her go, Sigrid called to Britte. "Are all the children here?"

"The lads are working, but the little ones are here," Britte replied, reappearing through the doorway, the bright-eyed babe that Sigrid had glimpsed the day before in her arms. "Sigrid, meet Gwennie."

It was the introduction she had not been able to face six months ago. It would have been a newborn Sigrid met back then, marvelling at her tiny fingernails and sweet, sleeping eyelashes. This Gwennie was roly-poly, inquisitive, and alert, and she grasped at Sigrid's approaching finger with a chubby hand and a happy gurgle.

"She likes you," Britte remarked, her eyes on her friend's face.

"I should have come," Sigrid replied, shaking her head gently. "I'm sorry, Britte."

"No, Sig. Not if it was causing you grief. It's better this way. Here." She deposited Gwennie unceremoniously into Sigrid's arms. "Come on out the back. I need a cloth – Ailidh's smeared you all over with strawberries."

* * *

"You stayed a long time," Fili said, tightening his arms around her, his body warm and firm against her back. "It must have gone well."

Sigrid caressed the arm around her waist, and spoke over her shoulder. "Britte was fine, once I explained. She'd been thinking I didn't have time for her any more." A sigh escaped her lips. "I have to make time to see her, Fili. She has the children with her all day in the back room of the shop, and comes out to handle the customers as well. She must be exhausted."

"You've got time before the baby arrives. Visit as much as you want." He nuzzled into her hair. "But mind you don't wind up exhausted too, love."

She gave a hum of assent. Laying in their bed, in Fili's arms, with his loving concern wrapped around her as warm as any blanket, she pondered the situation. It was a puzzle, to weigh up what you owed to others with what you owed to yourself. She could have forced herself to go and see Britte when Gwennie was born, even though at that time her happiness for her friend had been overshadowed by bitterness and heartache; and witnessing how she had missed that precious newborn time in Gwennie's development was a powerful remonstrance. But Britte was right, it was better this way. It was better to go and see her friend with a whole heart, to heal herself first so that she wasn't bringing that bitterness with her. There was one thought, though, that gave her pause. Where would she have been had they not fallen pregnant? It was only that stroke of luck that had dispelled the clouds for her – would she have had the courage to face Britte without it? She felt Fili's arms relax, and behind her, heard his breathing become deep and regular as he dozed off. She smiled. He was always telling her she had more courage than she gave herself credit for. With time, with Fili by her side, she knew there was nothing she couldn't overcome.


	46. Chapter 46

Now they were home, there was another visit Sigrid wanted to make, and she wanted Fili and herself to make it together. Jerrik, the healer in Dale, had spent countless hours researching fertility herbs and treatments for her, and it was his initiative of charting Sigrid's monthly courses that had at last given them the result they'd been longing for. As her healer, she was keen to seek Jerrik's advice in a medical capacity now that she was pregnant, and let him know the information they'd gathered in the Iron Hills; in addition to that, though, Sigrid had to let him know that his idea had been successful.

They found time one afternoon to make the walk into Dale, the end of summer still lingering in the blue skies, darting birds and humming insects around them as they slowly made their way down the road that hugged the Ravenhill spur of the mountain, curving down into the vale and into the town. Jerrik's small cottage was half hidden by tall racks of healing herbs drying in the sunshine, and Sigrid paused to breathe in their warm woody aroma before knocking on the door.

"Jerrik?" She opened the door and poked her head inside. For years, Jerrik's cottage had been a jumble of rolled parchments, wooden boxes, and glass bottles, every surface piled with notes, medicines and various odd tools that only he knew the use of. Now however, since taking on the dwarf Gorin as apprentice, the room was tidy and ordered, one wall completely taken up with hundreds of drawers, accessed by a sliding ladder – tiny ones containing herbs and salves, and wide, flat ones storing reams of parchments – interspersed with shelf upon shelf of glass bottles and instruments. Jerrik and Gorin were seated at the table, deep in an animated discussion and occasionally tapping a forefinger on a treatise rolled out in front of them. Gorin looked up and hurriedly stood as Sigrid and Fili entered.

"Welcome, do come in, my lord, my lady. How was your journey?" he said politely, with a nod of his head for Fili and a wide smile for Sigrid. Jerrik's body slowly swivelled towards them, his eyes still glued to the parchment and his finger pointing to the spot he was reading.

"The difference in gestation periods should certainly have an impact," he said, his mind still immersed in the topic they'd been discussing. "Eight months, no more than eight and a half, I'd wager. What do you think?" He looked up, and gave a start when he saw Sigrid and Fili. He rose, ran a hand absently through his tousled brown hair, then held it out to Fili.

"My lord, my lady. Timely – we were just… how do you fare?" He gestured for them to take a seat, and tapped at the parchment. "Another treatise on reproductive capability, although I don't believe this… " he paused, and peered at the parchment, "'Galan' could have been aware of a situation like…" He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "So many differences in physiology, so many factors simply not… " He shook his head, preoccupied with his conjectures, then his face brightened and he slid the parchment aside. "But no matter. A journey, you said, Gorin? Where was that again, my lady?"

"The Iron Hills, Jerrik, remember? I've so much to tell you, I hardly know where to begin," Sigrid said, with a smile for Jerrik's eccentric ways. She shared a glance with Fili, and he took her hand and squeezed it. "First things first. You were right about the charts, Jerrik. They worked. Fili and I are having baby."

Jerrick sat immobile, his eyes slowly unfixing, as Gorin offered his hand to the two of them with his warm congratulations, and Sigrid grinned in fond amusement. Jerrick was a gifted healer, upon whom everyone in Dale relied for the treatment of their ailments, great or small, and there was no-one Sigrid would sooner have trusted with her health. But it was his love for research, his ability to take in information and derive new and effective treatments, that set him apart, and Sigrid knew his brilliant mind had already leapt into action, considering the implications of this discovery. It was no surprise that when moments later Jerrik came out of his reverie, he grabbed a large calendar, pen and ink, and started plotting out dates.

"So, June, three cycles elapsed, it can't be more than eight, eight and a half months, no matter what this Galan says…" he muttered to himself, flipping the pages of the calendar. He circled a week on the February page. "End of January, start of February, that would be my estimate." He looked up at Sigrid, his eyes bright. "Fascinating, simply fascinating. I can't wait to see… You'll permit me to document it all, won't you, for the records?"

"Of course, Jerrik," she replied with a smile. "If there's anything I can do that will make it easier for the next couple, I'd be more than happy."

"Speaking of which, there's more to tell you, Jerrik," Fili added, sparing a glance at Gorin, who had been moving about quietly, fetching herbs from the towering bank of drawers to place in front of Sigrid, and was now taking her pulse, her wrist held loosely under his fingers and his eyes on the clock on the mantelpiece. "In the Iron Hills we met a couple, dwarf and woman, with two natural-born children. Sigrid has all the details of their births. And there were two more recorded in the histories. We went looking for precedents, and we certainly found them."

"Ah, truly? You must tell me everything," Jerrik said, tapping the table with his fingers in excitement. He looked around and pulled the nearest parchment towards him, Galan's treatise, and flipped it face down. He dipped his pen in the ink and was about to write on it when Gorin snatched it away, replacing it with a blank sheet.

"No writing scraps here and there. You'll never find it again," Gorin said, in what sounded like a familiar exchange. "Pulse is elevated, normal for pregnancy, and I've got raspberry leaf and slippery elm here for any nausea and heartburn." He turned to Sigrid as Jerrik started jotting notes on the parchment. "Any nausea or heartburn?"

"Nausea yes, heartburn no, not really," Sigrid said, with another glance at Fili. He shrugged to indicate he didn't recall any either.

"It will come as the bairn grows," Gorin continued. "When it does, the slippery elm will help. The raspberry leaf tea is a good general tonic, a cup per day, increasing to two to three cups in your last month. Is there anything I've missed, Jerrik?"

"No, that's very good, Gorin, thank you. Now, my lady, I would very much like to hear everything you learned in the Iron Hills."

Sigrid recounted all the information Astrid had told her about her pregnancies and births: how long she'd carried the bairns, how long her labours had lasted, and their birth weights, Jerrik muttering under his breath all the while as he recorded the details on his parchment. ("Eight months? I thought so.") Confident now that they knew what to expect, and buoyed by the success of the method he'd devised for increasing their chances of conception, Jerrik advised a schedule of bi-monthly checkups, with Sigrid to send for him immediately if anything of concern happened between times.

"And by the end of winter, if all goes well, and I see no reason why it shouldn't, your child will be here," he said, leaning back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. They thanked him, Fili extending his hand again to both he and Gorin, and they took their leave of the healers to return home.

They retraced their steps slowly, enjoying the afternoon sun. Fili gave Sigrid's hand a squeeze.

"I respect Jerrik, and I couldn't wish you in safer hands, but I'm not sure if he's in it for us, or for the inevitable treatise he's going to pen about us," he quipped, only half in jest.

"It's always both, with Jerrik," Sigrid observed. "He's a gifted healer, but he can't help thinking about the bigger picture. It's as though everything he learns sheds light on something else, and he sees connections others don't see. I think he finds that 'fascinating', as he puts it, quite apart from it being able to help his patients."

"Well, he's done much for us, and I appreciate it. We're lucky to have him." Fili looked around at the clear sky, and the sun falling away in the west, and his voice turned thoughtful. "But if there was a choice between having wits as sharp as a wizard, but not knowing what day it is, and being me, I'd choose being me."

"With all the knowledge he has in his head, there must be no room left for anything practical," Sigrid said with a laugh. "But his manner suits him. He loves theories and research. I'd wager he'd get on famously with Lis." She hugged Fili's arm closer to her body. "And your manner suits you, my love. I'm glad of it. I'd not have you any other way."

* * *

"What are you doing Thursday?" Sigrid asked mildly one evening, as she was pottering about in the bedroom tidying her things. Fili, sitting in front of the fire sipping a quiet tankard of ale, looked up, unfooled by her innocent tone.

"Same as I do every other day," he replied. "Why? It sounds like you're plotting something."

Sigrid laughed, and he held his hand out to her for balance as she lowered herself down to sit next to him.

"I am," she said. "I'd like to do something for Britte. You know how hard it's been for her, looking after the little ones and the shop. Now Arrild's father's been taken sick, and Arrild's taking the lads to help out at his farm for a week. Britte's going to be coping on her own until they get back. I thought it might be nice to give her a night off."

"That's a great idea," Fili said looking back at the fire. He snuggled Sigrid closer to his side. Britte was good company: they'd spent many pleasant evenings with her and Arrild, both here at home and at their farm. There'd even been one memorable occasion, before the bairns were born, when the four of them had stumbled back to the Mountain in the wee hours of the morning, singing a dwarven drinking song he'd taught them at the top of their lungs. There was no prospect of a repeat of that, though, he thought with a smile. But a hearty tavern supper and a jug of wine with his wife and her friend would be a fine substitute.

"We're agreed, then," Sigrid said beside him, leaning her head on his. "I'll tell Britte to bring the children to us around five."

* * *

"That's not how Mama does it."

Ailidh was standing in the middle of the room, staring at him with solemn eyes. Orcs, goblins, wargs – none of them had filled him with as much apprehension as the gaze of this innocent four-year-old. Fili looked down at the cloth he'd wound awkwardly around the bairn's bottom, then back at Ailidh, and gave her a half-hearted smile.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Brede's got a sword," she said.

He heard a clatter behind him, and span around in panic. With a muttered Khuzdul oath he leaped forward and snatched his long hunting knife from the hands of Ailidh's inquisitive brother, and guided the toddler back to the pile of wooden toys Sigrid had left for him on the floor. What was he thinking, leaving his weapons out? He started gathering them off the rack and shoving them into the nearest clothing chest. From behind him there came a soft thump.

"Wennie's on the floor."

Aghast, he looked back towards the bed. The bairn had fallen off, how Fili had no idea, but thankfully she had landed on the thick sheepskin rug. She seemed fine – she was gurgling happily and trying to put her foot in her mouth, so with one eye on her and one on Brede, he stuffed the last of his blades into the chest and locked it.

"Sigrid will be back with your supper any minute," he said, hoping it was true. "Let's all sit here on the rug, shall we, and I'll tell you a story." He picked Gwennie up, the clean cloth he'd put on her unravelling and dropping to the floor. Avoiding the solemn eyes of the child – could she really be only four years old? – he grabbed the cloth and wrapped the bairn again, holding her in the crook of his arm so it couldn't come off, and mentally pleaded for Sigrid to hurry.

* * *

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he said softly. Lying between them, tucked into the large bed, Ailidh and Brede were sleeping peacefully, while little Gwennie slumbered in an oval cane basket at the side of the room.

"Yes, we are," Sigrid whispered. "I thought we should practise." She reached across the children towards him, and he was about to take her hand and kiss it, when she plucked a glob of mashed turnip from his hair. He chuckled quietly.

"At least it's food," he said. "It could have been worse."

He looked from the soft, loving eyes of his wife down to the sleeping children, and smiled. It could be worse, indeed. He gave a contented sigh as Sigrid got up, careful not to disturb the sleepers, and made her way across the room.

"Fili?"

"Yes, love?" He looked up to see her kneeling at one of the chests lined against the wall, holding up her nightgown.

"Why is my nightgown full of holes?"


	47. Chapter 47

Sigrid stood and watched Fili from across the crowded dancefloor. He had pulled his hair back in a clip so as not to entangle it with his fiddle, and his whole body was pulsing with the beat of the music he was playing, blue eyes glinting and fingers flying, as he and Kili performed their obligatory dance numbers with the band. The rhythm was infectious, and Sigrid felt her body instinctively moving along, her eyes never leaving the sight in front of her.

It seemed as though she hadn't seen him all day. He'd crept out of bed early and left her to sleep, knowing that she'd be needing the rest come evening, and though she'd been touched by his thoughtfulness, it had been mixed with a vague sense of disappointment when she'd woken and found him gone. For the first time in weeks she hadn't experienced the swelling rise of nausea in her stomach on waking, and she'd felt… well, she'd wished Fili had been there.

For the rest of the day he'd been preoccupied with preparations for the feast, directing operations, advising on a hundred little problems, and helping people take care of their duties to free them up for the evening. It was only really during the meal they'd just shared that they'd spent any time together, and despite the hundreds of pairs of eyes in the hall, the touch of Fili's fingers grazing the inside of her elbow as he'd handed her into her seat had made her shiver. And she could still feel the soft kiss with which he'd reluctantly left her to fulfil his duties with the band.

His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and she could see the tendons in his forearms flex as he plied his bow. She imagined how his biceps would be moving under his shirt, and was reminded of the time in the Iron Hills when she'd found him in Dain's smithy, how the sight of him had mesmerised her. He'd been focused on his craft then, his eyes on the hot steel he was working. Here, with the only danger present that of his braids catching in his fiddle strings, he was free to look around the room, nod to the other musicians, and enjoy the spectacle of the happy, dancing crowd enjoying the music they were making.

Only he wasn't doing any of those things. His eyes were on her.

He was holding her gaze as he played, appraising her levelly with eyes that reflected her desire, with a hint of mischief in their glinting blue depths. The dimple in his cheek deepened as his lips curved in a half-grin.

She gazed squarely back at him, then gave a start as someone touched her elbow.

"Sig! Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to say thank you again for taking care of the children the other night." It was Britte, her voice raised against the noise of the music and a hundred people dancing.

Sigrid smiled and leaned towards her friend. "You're not interrupting anything, Britte. And it was no trouble at all, they were as good as gold."

Britte gave an impish grin, one eyebrow raised skeptically, raising her voice louder as the crowd clapped and cheered the end of the song. "Not interrupting? Sure. But seriously, thanks Sig. I haven't had a night to myself for an age, I really appreciate it. Now, you and your husband can get back to your eyef…"

"Britte!" Sigrid exclaimed, laughing and scandalised.

"No need, he's here," Britte replied with a smirk. "Hi Fili. Loved that last number. Eye opening, you could say."

Sigrid felt Fili's arms slide around her waist as he joined them. "Thanks Britte. How's the family?" he said, his voice light, and Sigrid knew he'd chosen to ignore Britte's teasing.

"They're great. In fact, I see one of them now. Bye!" Britte gave them a huge grin, and abruptly spun on her heel and left. Sigrid shook her head fondly at her friend's retreating back, and turned to Fili.

He slid his arms into her waist and pressed her to him, swaying gently as the band began their next song without him. He nuzzled into her hair, and the appreciative hum he made, with his breath against her neck and his hands sliding up her back, only served to increase her longing.

"I missed you today," she murmured.

"I can tell," he replied softly, his voice a low purr.

Sigrid closed her eyes and let Fili guide her around the dancefloor, sliding her hands up and around his shoulders, feeling his body move against her, breathing him in. It wasn't enough. She gave a soft exasperated moan and opened her eyes.

"Where can we go?" she breathed with her lips to his ear.

Fili drew back and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the crowd, and took her hand. He led her from the floor towards the honour table, and for a fleeting instant Sigrid entertained a wild, breathless vision of him laying her down and taking her on it. He stepped past the table, up and over the dias, to the tapestry hanging on the back wall, and with another cautious but unashamed glance over his shoulder, led her behind it.

The heavy tapestry hid an alcove that had been chiselled out of the stone wall, roughly six feet wide and four deep. Sigrid had never known it was there. Her eyes roamed up to the corner, puzzled.

"Family secret. Thror used to hide armed guards in here when he met foreign envoys," Fili whispered. Sigrid turned back to him abruptly.

"Fascinating. Tell me later," she breathed, and pushed him back against the wall.

Her mouth sought his, hungry and intent. Her hair fell down around her shoulders as his fingers sunk into it and gripped it as he kissed her back, then with a sudden move he reversed their positions, and the cool stone of the wall at her back was offset by the heat of his body and his hands and lips at her front. He held her head still as he devoured the skin of her neck, and felt his lips against her as he whispered.

"Amralime, the way you were looking at me… I couldn't concentrate. All I could think of was this. You."

She closed her eyes again and held on as he kissed his way down to her collarbone, moving the strap of her gown aside to give him access. Again, it wasn't enough. She wriggled her shoulder to let the strap fall to her elbow, exposing her breast, and with a groan Fili caught on to her intentions and immediately circled his tongue around her nipple. He looked up, and his look was part question, part challenge, and all dimples and mischief.

"Here? Now?"

She held his gaze with a wicked smile, and nodded.

* * *

She was driving him crazy. Though Fili didn't think she realised it, all night Sigrid had been giving him signals – a touch that lingered on his skin, a half-glimpsed flicker in her eyes – she couldn't hide it from him. He always knew when she was feeling… amorous. She'd joined him late at the feast, and she'd looked different somehow, less polished, and more natural than she usually did for a formal occasion. It was only when she began making excuses, touching her hair self-consciously, that he understood why. Her friend Bennon, who usually helped her dress, hadn't yet returned from the Iron Hills, and she'd had to make do on her own.

She'd chosen one of his favourite gowns, a gold one with straps and a deep V in front that revealed the swell of her breasts, the laces loosened in back to accommodate the roundness of her belly. She'd drawn her hair up into a loose, tousled pile on her head, tendrils escaping here and there to brush her neck, and Fili had longed all night to sink his fingers into it. As soon as she'd pressed him again the wall, it was the first thing he'd done, and he'd entangled himself in the silky, honey-gold strands that smelled of flowers and sunshine and seduction.

But it had been her eyes that had brought him undone, her beautiful grey eyes that had devoured him from across the dancefloor as he'd tried to concentrate on playing with the band. He'd seen nothing but her. And now those eyes were gazing at him with undisguised passion, and provocation, and always, that glint of mischief that matched his own. She wanted to misbehave, and he was going to oblige her.

* * *

Fili kissed his way back up to the tender skin under her jaw, his hand around her breast and his thumb grazing back and forth against her nipple. His teeth tugged at her earlobe. She closed her eyes again and sagged against him, supported by one arm round her waist as his other hand left her breast to seek the hem of her dress. He slipped under it, and his breath caught at the same time as hers as his fingers skimmed her thighs and slid straight into the folds of her sex.

His low growl told her he could feel how ready she was. His fingers entered her again and again, spreading her wetness to her bud and circling it, kneading and sliding over it as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Then he stopped, waited for her to look at him, and held her eyes as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

He lifted her dress over his head. She couldn't see anything, only feel as his hot breath hovered in front of her while his hands pressed her thighs apart, and then he made contact, and there was nothing in the world but his lips and tongue and the sensations he was giving her. He swirled on her, pulsing and pulling and varying pressure, slow and soft then firm and demanding, building her higher and higher. His fingers found her centre again as he worked her, and she clutched his head through the slippery gold material of her gown. It wouldn't do. She pulled at her skirt: she wanted to see him, to sink her fingers into his hair as he pleasured her. When she pulled it back, he looked up and met her gaze, his mouth still glued on her, and it was too much. She felt her climax explode though her body, and it was devastating – stronger than she'd ever experienced, sending tremors along the length of her spine, and causing her to place her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. Fili didn't stop, however. He held her bucking hips tightly, and drew a second, and then a third climax from her, until she honestly feared she was going to collapse on top of him. With a gloating, self-satisfied hum he at last let her go, and rose to support her body as she clung to him, breathless and panting.

She didn't want to stop, didn't want to let the sensations fade before she felt him inside her. She reached for the drawstring of his breeches, and he rested his forehead on hers as she fumbled with it.

"Catch your breath, love. There's no rush," he whispered, stroking a strand of hair back from her face.

"Yes, there is," she replied, and took him in her hand. He was firm and ready, and he gave a helpless groan as she stroked and caressed him. It was a heady and gratifying feeling, that although he had such strength and power, literally and figuratively, he was completely at her mercy when it came to this. He soon took hold of her hands, however, and placed them around his neck.

"Amralime, easy. I want to finish inside you," he said hoarsely. "Here, hold on to me." He slid his hands up her legs, gathering her skirt as he went, and lifted her up, supporting her under her haunches as she wrapped her legs around his hips, and he reached underneath to bring the head of his shaft where he wanted it. He pulsed his way inside her, and she held on as he set them an insistent rhythm, their eyes locked together as he took her against the wall.

They fell in a heap on the floor, hearts pounding in unison. He drew her close against his chest and held her, and the thumping of his heart vied with the thumping drumbeat of the band and the stamping feet of a hundred couples dancing.

"Amralime," he murmured, out of breath.

"Yes, my love?"

She didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning. "Can you miss me again tomorrow?"

* * *

After their eventful experiences on the road, life settled back into a comfortable routine at the Mountain. Even as her nausea eased, the heartburn Gorin had predicted came as the bairn grew in Sigrid's belly and started taking up room, pressing against her stomach. And her bladder – wherever she went she kept an attentive eye on where the lavatories were located. Her cravings also became more insistent, and often now she woke Fili in the middle of the night and asked him to fetch her food: sometimes bread, sometimes potatoes or olives, and the kitchens eventually kept a plate in readiness for her each evening, just in case. Then the winds turned colder, and the first snows came early, keeping her from her work amongst the families of Dale. Though she missed it, Tilda was more than competent as a replacement, and there was no shortage of tasks to occupy her amongst the elders and families of her husband's people. No matter how she felt, physically or emotionally, no matter what annoyances and discomforts she experienced, there was one thing that she never lost sight of. Preparing for the birth of their child was a pleasure that she had thought she would never get to experience, and it made everything worthwhile. She longed for the spring.

* * *

"We'll have to go now, love. Storm clouds are brewing in the north," Fili said as he entered their room. Sigrid looked up from the bag she was packing. She pulled the drawstring shut and turned to face Fili.

"I'm ready if you are," she said, her hands supporting the small of her back to keep balance with her swollen belly in front.

Fili moved closer to place an arm around her, and reached out a hand to gently rub her bump. "How about you, Gwinig?" he said, addressing his words to their child. "Are you ready for your first Yule celebration?"

Sigrid laughed and caressed his hand. "I don't think it counts if he's not born yet. Try again next Yule."

" _She_ ," Fili emphasised, "is right there. It counts. Now we had better get going. Once this storm starts we'll be snowed in, I'll wager."

"Rub my back first, will you please, Fili? It's aching again."

"Down here?" He kneaded his fingers into the small of her back, and she hummed in pleasure. As her spine had gradually shifted to accommodate her growing bump, her muscles had shifted too, sometimes making their tension known through aches and cramps. Without fail Fili's strong fingers eased her discomfort.

Once the ache had subsided, Fili helped her into her coat, winding a scarf around her head to bundle her well against the cold.

"How am I supposed to get down to the Gate? I can barely see," she laughed, her voice all but completely muffled. She pre-empted Fili's reply, cutting him off with a look and a raised finger. "No, you're not carrying me."

Fili laughed as she unwound the scarf. "I'll put it back on you at the Gate. There are skins in the sleigh, too. You'll be fine til we get there."

"I'll be roasting when we get there. What is it, twenty minutes' drive?"

"Humour me, love. If anything happened to you…" The sparkle in his eyes dimmed as his face turned serious.

She gave him a tender look, then threw her bag at him, and he caught it against his chest. "I'll be fine. Come on. If it's going to storm, they'll be waiting for us."

* * *

Sigrid didn't recognise the horse Fili had hitched to the sleigh. It wasn't Mindy or Daisy: she guessed it must be one of the working horses, labouring on the wagons in the warmer months when the road was clear, and only during winter exchanging the slow clop, clop, clop of the team for the lively pace of the light-running sleigh as it skimmed over the snow, the horse's hooves sending up small clumps with every brisk step. Despite the dark clouds coming in swiftly from the north, the sun peeped out through patches of blue sky overhead as they set off, and Sigrid pulled the scarf down from her face, enjoying the trip as much as the horse apparently was. Fili had attached bells to the harness, and they rang merrily he drove them around the snowy road that hugged the Ravenhill spur of the Mountain and down into Dale.

They pulled up in front of Bard's stable just as the wind started to rise and the first flakes of snow began to fall. Fili flung the horse's reins over a post and ran around to help Sigrid out of the sleigh, and escorted her inside.

The warm, familiar smell of her old home struck her as soon as she entered the door. It wasn't just the smell of home, but home on Yule, the scent of pine resin wafting from the mantel mingling with wine and spices from the kitchen. Cinnamon and cloves – Tilda was making the mulled wine. Sigrid looked around at the decorated hearth, the sprigs of mistletoe hanging from every lintel, and the big wassail bowl ready on the table receive Tilda's brew, and her heart filled with happiness.

"Don't make too much wassail, Tilda, it's going to storm tonight. I doubt you'll get any carollers," Fili advised. Tilda looked up with a smile, and ran to embrace them. Overprotective to the last, Fili entrusted Sigrid to her sister, and went back out into the snow to stable the horse.

"Here, Tilda," Sigrid said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a large, cloth-wrapped pudding and handed it to her sister. "Mamma's recipe, as always."

"Thanks. I can never make it they way you do, Sigrid. You'll help me with the pork?"

"Of course."

* * *

"Tilda, Sigrid, I'd have to say that was the best Yule supper we've ever had," Bard said contentedly, stretching back in his chair and rubbing the sides of his stomach.

"Oh, Da, you say that every year," Sigrid said with a laugh. "Although I've certainly eaten enough to give me a stomach ache." She ran her hands over the curve of her belly. "Hey, you in there. Stop poking me. There's enough room for you and the food." She rose to gather up the plates and stopped. She clutched at her back, and sucked in a sharp breath.

Fili and Tilda both looked up in concern.

"Are you all right, love?" Fili said.

Sigrid blew out her breath noisily, and tried to smile. "I'm fine. Your son's objecting to the amount of food I've eaten, that's all." The wan smile faded as she bent over, resting her hands on the table, and hung her head, her brow furrowed in pain. Fili leaped up, his chair flying backwards, and took hold of her arm. She clutched at him, and looked up with pleading eyes.

"No. It can't be. It's too soon," she whispered.

Tilda hurried to support Sigrid's other arm. She gave Fili a worried look, then quickly masked it with bright, no-nonsense manner as she addressed her sister. "Come on, Sigrid. Let's get you to bed. Your baby's coming."


End file.
